


Rescue Mission For Two

by pherryt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Captured, Comfort/Angst, Creature Fic, Dragon!Cas, Dragons, Fairies, Fantasy AU, First Kiss, M/M, Magic, Secrets, Soulmates, Telepathy, bed sharing, border skirmishes, brief non graphic torture scenes, brief section of Cas being drugged against his will, drugged!cas, hurt!Dean, nakedness (but no smut), self sacrificing characters, sick!Cas, stubborn!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Castiel thinks he's the last of his kind and doomed to live a life alone. He's hiding in plain sight, as a human soldier in Angels Outfit, fighting alongside other companies - including Lord Winchesters renowned cavalry, the Silver Hooves - when his soul mark unbelievably flares to life.Either he's not the only Dragon to survive the war, or he's bonded with a human. Before he can figure out which of his fellow soldiers it could be, he's sent across into enemy territory on a rescue mission.Lord Winchester's eldest has been captured and last rumored to be in Alastair's hands. Castiel can't say no, but the clock is ticking and if he doesn't find his soul mate, he will die.





	1. Searing Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all!
> 
> First off, I have a LOT of people to thank for this fic. It's not what I intended to write for this years DCBB. In fact, I had 3 other choices and this was none of them. But all of them were either fighting me or just needed a lot of time to be done RIGHT and I didn't have that time. 
> 
> I wound up writing the entire first draft of this in one month with a lot of cheering on from my followers (thank you!). Feathers-and-Cigarettes ([A03 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes) / [Tumblr ](https://feathers-and-cigarettes.tumblr.com/) ) was a lot of things towards this fic: Moral support, encouragement and even a sounding board! He helped me figure out all sorts of little things that helped get the rough draft on its feet.
> 
> I want to also thank Unforth for attempting to find the time to help even though life inevitably got in the way. It was rather last minute. Thank you again. I did finally fix that one spot you had an issue with. It only took 3 tries.
> 
> And more thank yous to both Braezenkitty ([ A03 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/braezenkitty) / [ Tumblr ](https://braezenkitty.tumblr.com/) ) and Li-Izumi ([A03 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/li_izumi/pseuds/li_izumi) / [ Tumblr](http://li-izumi.tumblr.com/) ) who stepped in VERY last minute for both Beta and Alpha work. BK concentrated on the Beta (Grammar, spelling and minor call outs of inconsistencies) while Li - in less than... what? a week and a half? Two at the most? DId Alpha work, pointing out weak areas in the narrative. I got ALMOST all of it. I'm sorry Li! Thank you again!
> 
> Lastly, but not least, is[ thedogsled onTumblr ](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/), my artist. Not only are they doing my story, but they're involved in several others as well (as both writer AND artist!) AND THEY STILL went above and beyond for my fic! I don't know who was more excited to find out we'd been paired up (again! thedogsled also did art for my Pinefest this winter!).  
> [Check out the Art Masterpost here and give theDogsled love directly!](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/post/179693279953/an-art-masterpost-for-rescue-mission-for-two-by)
> 
>  
> 
> As opposed to last years DCBB, this fic is not rated E. I've been worried about how that would draw in artists and readers as last years fic took forever to get picked. But this year, i was picked before i even woke up for the day. And I was told that more than a few folks were interested in my story. I know my artist absolutely loved it! Braezenkitty definitely enjoyed it as well and Li told me it was strong. 
> 
> So thank you for clicking and I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *PS - Banner made by me for the original Promo for the story :D

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

Castiel swung his sword, parrying a blow from the Tenebrim soldier he faced on the battlefield. It was a small border skirmish between Aetheria and Tenebrim, one more outbreak of violence between the countries of the kings Michael and Azazel, but as sweat beaded his forehead, with the lives of he and his fellow soldiers in the balance, it didn’t feel like something minor.

With ease, he turned to strike a soldier who’d beset Balthazar, his fighting partner. The man staggered and fell as Castiel withdrew his blade in time to block another sword aimed at his head.

Castiel ducked another blow, bringing his sword arm up in time to block a second, his sword clashing with the Tenebrim soldier’s. The soldier staggered back on his feet beneath the strength of the blow – greater than that of an average human – and Castiel moved forward to press his advantage when a shock reverberated up his arm, causing him to falter.

“Cas!” Balthazar shouted, barely heard over the din of the battle, the clash of metal on metal and a myriad of other sounds.

“I’m fine!” Castiel shouted back. It probably wasn’t a lie, though he had no idea what had happened. His sword arm thrummed oddly but there was no time to dwell on it now. Even if there’d been actual pain, or visual evidence of a slice, he couldn’t afford to stop and check his wounds here.

A sword swung through the air, missing him as he leapt back, pulling his attention back where it needed to be. Out of the corner of his eye, even as he dodged another blow, he saw one of his fellow soldiers trip. Quick reflexes allowed Castiel to grab the man and yank him back before he skewered himself on a Tenebrim’s sword.

There was no thanks for the save, nor did Castiel expect any.  They were all too busy trying to survive to bother with such niceties.

A horn blew, a coded sequence signaling their retreat to make way for the next wave. Castiel and the rest of his company – the Angels Outfit under command of Captain Anna Milton – withdrew from the field with great relief, more than ready to take advantage of their short breather. They fell back to safety and immediately set about checking their wounds.

Castiel cleaned his blade and sheathed it, unwrapping his arm and looking for any sort of damage to explain the throbbing ache that grew worse every second. But when he uncovered it, he stared in disbelief.

It was most decidedly not a wound.

What it was, however, was impossible. He stared at the spiraling green, black, and blue lines that wrapped around his right arm from his wrist and disappearing higher up under his sleeve. It took great effort to school his features to neutrality despite the urge to roar his exultation to the skies.

His mate had awakened at long last.

Heedless of the hectic pace on the field that day – they were hardly the only company engaged to fight on behalf of the king – Castiel couldn't stop from taking the time to just look in complete amazement and wonder at the beautifully curling lines. His gaze wandered up and down his arm, the spirals still swirling and thickening.The final lines wouldn’t form until he and his soulmate were united, but the simple fact remained.

Castiel wouldn’t be alone.

Hot on the heels of his excitement came worry. It was the nature of the bonds to force the mates to meet; the mark grew painful if they didn’t, even if the mates didn’t want to be together, even if external forces kept them apart. Soulmate bonds had been known to kill if denied too long.

And Castiel couldn’t leave without being declared a deserter. While he had no worry about his ability to survive should he be outcast, that was no way to start a life with his soulmate. He wouldn’t force his soulmate to wed a fugitive if he could help it.

Horses rushed by, hooves thundering, and the throbbing of the mark reached a fever pitch.

His head shot up to see the riders, decked out in black and silver and hints of blue, charging forward in formation across the field and crashing into their adversary. A standard flew high above, a silver beast upon a sea of black.

One of them was his mate.

Castiel stared after them, letting his sleeve drop and hoping that no one else had caught sight of what had transfixed him though he doubted any would recognize what it meant.

Balthazar caught his gaze and nudged him. “That’s Lord Winchester’s company, the Silver Hooves. Bloody death on horseback. Glad they’re on _our_ side. I’d _hate_ to face them in battle.”

Absently, Castiel nodded in acknowledgement.

He’d heard of the Silver Hooves – everyone had – though it was the first time Castiel had seen them in action. Being a nobles’ private cavalry meant that only the King of Aetheria dared call upon them. Despite being known mostly for the superiority of the horses they trained and bred themselves, it was said that their skill in battle was legendary.

Why they were not called upon more often was a thing of speculation, especially amongst the soldiers of other companies – both mercenaries and those held by other nobles.

It was rumored that the Winchesters’ loyalty to the king was a nebulous thing, just waiting for an excuse to throw off King Michael’s rule. In fact, Castiel could remember a time when Aetheria wasn’t quite as large as it was now, and the Winchesters – out on the edge of King Michael's land – had once been a power outside the country.

Sometime in the past, a few generations perhaps, the Winchester clan – strong in their own rights and with secrets the rest of them would never be privy to - had agreed to become part of Aetheria. Whatever the reason, Castiel and history may never know – but their roots in their old ways ran deep and King Michael rarely interfered with them, as it had been with his predecessors.

At any rate, Castiel would’ve tried to join them if not for the horses.  Animals didn’t react well to Castiel’s presence. He’d never learned to ride, and no matter how excellent a fighter he was, the Silver Hooves only took cavalrymen. 

People didn’t react well to Castiel either. His fellow soldiers knew how deadly Castiel was with his sword and, while on the one hand they all wished to be partnered with him since it increased their own chances of survival, on the other no one actually wanted to. He knew he set them too much on edge even if they didn’t understand why.  Balthazar had been the only brave soul to volunteer and while their initial partnership may have been awkward and somewhat tense, Balthazar had stuck it out with Castiel and they’d become a duo to be reckoned with on the field.

The jingle of the harnesses, the clash of steel, the stomping of the hooves as the Silver Hooves engaged in battle drew Castiel back to the source of his thoughts. The idea that his mate might have been in Winchester lands this whole time… That he’d been  _ so  _ close…

Castiel shook his head.  What were the chances his future mate lived in one of the few places he could not go? Castiel couldn't help but stare after the horse company in a daze, wounds, and Balthazar, forgotten.

Hopefully, he and his soulmate could stave off the negative side effects of the bond until the end of the battle. Ideally, the lull following this day’s skirmish would grant Castiel and his long-awaited mate the opportunity to meet.

What kind of person would his mate be? Would they accept him?

Would he creep them out as he did his fellow soldiers? 

Only time would tell, but for now, he couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

The battle continued, long and bloody, and Castiel’s company, Angel’s Outfit, was ordered out again. As they marched forward, the cavalry beat a retreat. The standard that had floated proudly over their heads was gone.

In a wink, the Silver Hooves had passed and Castiel’s attention was once more focused forward, his arm swinging tirelessly around him. He couldn’t worry about their departure; he had to focus on keeping himself, Balthazar, and his comrades alive.

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

Dean’s nerves jittered.

He’d been in battles before and led patrols across his families’ lands. But this…

This was a first.

This would be his first time  _ leading _ the charge. He knew these men and women, and Bobby was nearby should he be needed, but it was  _ Dean _ who was in charge.

He checked the cinches and Impala’s bridle – not because he wasn’t sure of them, but because his hands needed something to keep them occupied.

Bobbly pulled up alongside him. “Take it easy, boy. You’ll do fine,” he groused. “I’ll be watching it all from right over there.” He pointed past Dean toward the command hill, not that it was much of a hill, but Dean could see the various captains and liaisons gathering together. “And we’ll discuss your tactics when it’s over.”

Oddly enough, instead of making Dean more nervous, it actually helped soothe him. Knowing that Bobby was treating this as a simple training exercise, watching and ready to critique Dean afterward, made him feel better, somehow.

Though that didn’t change the fact that Dean would hold lives in the balance of his actions. Still, he would do his best not to let them down.

_ I just hope that’s good enough. I hope I can at least keep the casualties to a minimum today. _ He knew in battle that was truly the best he could hope for.

A runner appeared in the kings’ livery, waving a cloth with the emblem of the Silver Hooves. Dean launched himself into his saddle. “That’s the signal – let’s go!” he shouted, raising his arm. Beside him, the standard bearer, Jack, face hidden by his helm, raised his pole and swooped it about. As one, the company moved forward.

They threaded between two infantry divisions, their horses thundering down onto the battlefield. The thrill of riding – no matter the cause – coursed through Dean.

They clashed with another infantry division, Dean at the head of the charge, his standard bearer faithfully beside him. To one side, just past Jack, was a bear of a man, Benny, who’d been particularly hard to find a sturdy horse for but was worth the effort with his prowess in battle. On Dean’s other, he was matched with a skinny lad named Garth who was nimble and tricksy. Clumsy, too, when he wasn’t fighting, but he was tenacious in battle and surprisingly good. John wouldn’t have sent his firstborn son forward of the line without some protection.

It was at the height of the clash that the unthinkable happened.

Pain bloomed along his sword arm and his movements faltered and twitched. He missed his mark but his opponent did not. The face of the man before Dean was obscured by his helmet, but there was a sudden glint in his eyes as he pressed his advantage. Dean had no chance to assess anything around him, hard pressed to keep any of the blows from landing.

There was a cry beside him and Jack surged forward to attack. It distracted the man long enough for Dean to recover and take a quick glance around. Elsewhere the battle went well, but Benny was swamped and Garth had gone to help him. Jack was being pushed back and his horse stumbled. It was so unusual that Dean’s heart almost stopped.

Nobody else had noticed anything wrong as of yet  – but then would they, in the thick of battle?

Dean’s arm throbbed strangely, his fingers feeling somewhat tingly, but he surged forward to come to Jack’s rescue.

_ What’s wrong with Jack? He’s not supposed to be engaging in battle, but he’s better trained than this!  _ The boy had been the quickest study Dean had ever seen and the scene before him was unlike Jack in any way.  _ Has he been hurt? _

Impala, sensitive to Dean’s body weight, shoved her way between Jack and the enemy soldier, snapping at the other horse. Dean’s arm hurt worse now and he had to drop the reins and use both hands to gain a modicum of control over his sword as he brought it down upon the Tenebrim soldier.

Impala’s aggressive motion was the only thing that was keeping Dean in the saddle, but every blow he blocked seem to numb his arm till he had dropped it, leaving his sword in his off hand.

“Get back!” Dean shouted at Jack, sweat pouring down his face.

“No, Dean!”

_ That wasn’t Jack,  _ Dean realized in horror. “Sam? What the  _ hell _ are you…” Dean’s stunned inattention cost him. The Tenebrim soldier knocked into Impala, putting all his and his horse’s weight behind the blow. Dean wasn’t quick or nimble enough to dodge the blow properly and he tumbled from his horse, unable to keep his seat.

He hit the ground on his ass, his sword flying from his grip and his helm popping off. Impala spooked as the soldier rammed her again with his own horse and she tore off from the battle, reins flapping behind her.

As if it weren’t embarrassing enough that Dean had just fallen off his goddamn horse, but she had to run away, leaving him stranded in the middle of heated battle.

He scrambled to his feet, his arm a numb and leaden weight hanging by his side. The soldier was approaching and Sam –  _ goddamit, why was Sam here? _ – made to charge him again, his sword raised awkwardly about his head.

But even from Dean’s vantage point on the ground, he could see the signal for the retreat and the Tenembrim soldiers regrouping. Dean grabbed Sam’s stirrup with his off hand before Sam could do more than kick his horse forward. He stumbled to a halt, unwilling to drag his brother along the battle ground.

“Fall back!” Dean shouted.

“But Dean –”

Movement caught the corner of his eye. Heart in his throat, Dean lunged away from Sam and scrabbled at the ground for his blade with his left hand, raising it in time to clumsily parry a blow.

It may have been his off hand, but he’d trained to use it too. It wasn’t elegant, nor was it fair, but he managed to push the soldier back by injuring his horse. Hopefully it wasn’t bad enough to permanently damage the poor beast, but enough to have it throw off the soldier. He was clearly not as expert a horseman as the Silver Hooves were. Very embarrassing, then, that Dean had been unhorsed by him. If he got out of here alive, he was never living this down.

It did the trick, or at least the soldier conceded temporary defeat, backing up to join his fellows. It probably wouldn’t be long before he returned, and before that happened Dean  _ had  _ to convince Sam to get back behind the line and into safety.

“It’s your job, Sam! Since you’ve seen fit to replace Jack,  _ you _ have to signal the fall back!”

“I’m not leaving without you!” Sam protested. “Climb up, Dean!”

“There’s no time,” Dean said, looking about him desperately. He didn’t bother mentioning that he _couldn’t_ climb up with his currently useless arm. _What had even_ caused _that_? He might have been able to climb onto Impala, if she bent down and had no other rider and he wasn’t rushed for time, but here? Now? He’d only get Sam caught too.

“Sam, please,” Dean begged, catching movement out of the corner of his eye. The soldier was already on his way back with friends. “I won’t let ‘em take me easy, promise, but we have to get the company out of here. There was a plan of engagement and we were but one part of it. We did our part for now, so you have to retreat. And they won’t go without you.”

“But I –“ Sam started, then shook his head, tears filling his eyes. His lips tightened and he raised the standard and swept it about his head, but he made no move to leave the field himself.

Within seconds, the company was in retreat, leaving Sam and Dean alone. If they didn’t notice Sam following soon, they’d come back. Dean leaned over and slapped the rear of Sam’s horse, startling it into moving. The horse leapt away, ears back, towards the company and Dean made to follow.

On foot, Dean didn’t compare to the fleetness of his cavalry and he easily fell behind. The soldiers took advantage of that and surged forward. He kept up his retreat until they circled him and cut it off.

Dean wouldn’t be going back to his own tent tonight. But he’d meant what he said to Sam. He wasn’t going down without a fight. The Tenebrims were not known for their mercy.

With one good arm, he gave it the best fight he could, ducking and using a lot of clever footwork to avoid the blows before raining down his own. But there were just too many of them for any of his blows to land and he couldn’t keep this up. Dean’s arm was tiring and they knew it, could see it in the tremble of his blade.

Then pain exploded in his head and stars were born before his eyes, obscuring everything before him. And then… darkness…

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

When the sky darkened and the battle paused for the night, Castiel stalked through the encampment, searching for the camp of the Silver Hooves. Balthazar and his other brothers-in-arms eyed him strangely when he left the camp, leaving whispers behind him.

Despite the day’s engagement having concluded, the encampment he walked through was still active, at least two companies always on alert - Tenebrims were not above such tactics as midnight ambushes. 

Castiel did not often leave his own section of camp except on orders, and then he was being sent on the most dangerous missions. In truth, he preferred them. Working on his own, not worrying about the discovery of what he was… he looked forward to it. Outside of Balthazar, he kept to himself, so the fact that he finished his duties, his patchworks and then stood up and left was sure to cause gossip.

But he didn’t care. He had more important things to attend to.

Upon reaching the camp of the Silver Hooves, however, Castiel found there was to be no entry. While all the others were readying to bed down for the night, this camp was ablaze with light and activity. The horses shifted restlessly, uneasily, and for once Castiel did not believe it was due to his presence.

He circled the camp, waiting for the thrumming of his arm to spike… but there was nothing.

He swallowed. Nothing was not a good sign. There should have been something… which meant something had happened to Castiel’s mate. And yet, his mate couldn’t be dead, else the mark would have backlashed. To a human, an incomplete bond would hurt for a while but they would survive. Castiel would not be so lucky..

So the fact that Castiel was still alive and well meant that so too must be his mate. Well, alive, anyway. He centered his senses inward, focusing on the mark, only just realizing in that second that he was clutching his right arm. He waited for an answering hum, a tug in any direction. But the bond had activated for proximity and apparently his mate was no longer so close. It would take a little bit for the soul mark to compensate.

For now, there was nothing he could do but hope they hadn’t gone far.

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

Dean flitted in and out of consciousness, his head splitting, his arm throbbing. He groaned and someone shh’d him.

He tried to open his eyes but light stabbed at him and he closed them again with another groan. He was laying on his side and his hands were bound behind him, his shoulders stretched awkwardly.

“Shhh… you want them to come in here?” a voice hissed out. Something pressed against his forehead and then yanked away. “Gods, you’re burning up! This is so not good. You’re one of Winchesters men, aren’t you? They almost never get one of you guys. They’re gonna have a field day with you.”

“For someone… who’s tellin’ me… to be quiet…” Dean gasped out, “Yer awf’ly chatty.”

“That’s cause  _ I  _ know how to talk without being overheard. It’s kinda my job,” the voice said. Dean wasn’t entirely certain, but he thought it might be a girl. He didn’t make the mistake of trying to open his eyes again, though.

“Yer han’s free?” he asked as quietly as he could.

“Sadly, no. Or I’d have made an escape attempt already,” the woman said. “By the way…  my names …  Cha rlie …”

She kept talking but Dean faded into oblivion once more.

*** &*&*&*&*&*&***

Bouncing jarred Dean awake, his head pounding and fuzzy. He shifted, only to find he was tied down to something.

Something that was moving.

Dean blinked his eyes open to find the countryside rushing past at a fairly fast pace. He was tied to the back of a horse, he realized quickly, well familiar with the gait and feel of a horse, if the smell of sweaty horseflesh and leather tack hadn’t already been enough to clue him in.

He tried to stretch his neck, to see where he was, how many men were around him – but he was tied too securely for that. About all he was sure of at that moment was that his horse was being led, as there was no one else with him. And his head hurt too much to attempt to separate the hoofbeats and do a count that way.

The only plus was that the burning on his arm had muted, becoming a low thrumming sensation he could almost hear, like the strands of a lingering chord on a guitar.

Or maybe the pain in his head just so far outweighed the other that it was rendered completely forgettable. Either way, none of that mattered now, because he was currently trussed up on a horse and on his way through enemy lands.

Things were most definitely not looking good. King Azazel was not said to look favorably on his underlings, much less those that opposed him. And if the Tenebrim soldiers knew who he was, things would be looking infinitely worse. Considering he was heading away from the fighting at high speed, there was no way Dean could fool himself into thinking they did  _ not  _ know who he was.

So things were about to get worse.

Eventually the monotonous pace - despite its painful jouncing - along with the bone deep weariness from the earlier battle and his currently fractured thoughts from the blow to his head, all combined to cause Dean to black out once more.

*** &*&*&CASTIEL*&*&*&**

Castiel hadn’t been able to refrain from checking the Silver Hooves’ camp the second night. With the throbbing of his arm a constant reminder, he was only briefly able to forget while he’d been busy fighting against Tenebrim soldiers.

But as soon as everything was done, the companies dismissed for the day, Castiel had beelined across the camps to find himself once more at the sentry line for the Silver Hooves. It was just as chaotic as the day before, though perhaps a bit more somber.

And the tugging on his mark was north, away from the Silver Hooves.

Had he been wrong?

With a shake of his head, Castiel headed back to his own tent. He slogged along deep in thought, but was stopped just as he reached for his tent flap. A fellow Angel called out as he jogged up to Castiel.

“Castiel,  Captain Milton has summoned you. Make haste,” the soldier said briskly. It was one he wasn’t overly familiar with and as soon as Castiel nodded his acknowledgement, the man  - Inias, maybe? – had jogged off again.

Castiel let the flap drop and turned, quickly making his way through the smaller tents to the largest one, the command tent. It was a well familiar walk, despite the new terrain, as the camp was rigidly put up within strict guidelines from site to site and campaign to campaign.

He nodded at the sentries on either side of the entrance. They didn’t even blink, but moved aside without a word from him, tacit permission to go within.

Inside was Captain Milton, and several others he knew vaguely as the captains and lords of the other companies. They were joined by two others he did  _ not  _ recognize. The tent was large enough that different portions of it were sectioned off for other tasks. He turned his attention away from those he had no business with and made his way straight over to his Captain and the two standing in her company.

“Ah, Castiel. Thank you for coming in such good time. This is Lord Winchester, and his right hand, Captain Singer,” Captain Milton said as soon as he entered. “John, this is the man you want.”

“This is him? Don’t look like much.” John dismissed Castiel without a second glance.

Castiel snorted. “Neither do you.”

John Winchester turned back and, if things weren’t as dire as they were, Castiel suspected he might have laughed. As it was, his lips twitched tiredly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t go away. Captain Singer coughed and covered his mouth.

“Castiel!” Captain Milton shouted before sighing and pinching her nose. “I assure you, Lord Winchester, despite his attitude, Castiel is the best. You want your son found, he’s the one to do it.”

“Is that right?” Winchester stared at Castiel, giving him another once over, the look more appraising than the first time. “Just him? No team?” he asked incredulously. “I don’t care how good he is, one man behind enemy lines —"

“Teams only slow him down.” Milton leaned forward. “You won’t find anyone with more stamina and strength than Castiel. He’s volunteered for missions such as these before, the most suicidal of tasks, and somehow, he comes out on top. You’ll find no one more suited to this task than he.”

“If he’s so good, why ain’t he higher up?” Captain Singer asked.

“I don’t want to be. I’m a fighter,” Castiel growled, tired of being talked about. He’d proven his worth time and time again. He knew what his Captain thought of him. But he in no way wanted to be in charge of others. He was content where he was. No responsibilities.

He too well remembered the last time he was given a command. He hadn’t dealt well with the casualties, knowing he was responsible for the deaths of those he cared for. Knowing he’d been unable, despite his skills, to hold back what had come. Unable to hold back the destruction of his people.

Castiel was, so far as he knew, the only one left.

Had been for a long time. If there were others left, they were hiding well.

But wasn’t that exactly what  _ he’d _ been doing?

Lord Winchester shoved forward, his eyes meeting Castiel’s for the first time since he’d stepped into the Command tent. There was recognition there, understanding, and he gave Castiel a small, respectful nod. Castiel could only imagine how haunted he must look.

“What do you need?” Castiel asked gruffly.

“My son – he led the charge yesterday afternoon and hasn’t returned, but his body is not out on the field.”

Castiel took in a breath. “Captured?”

“Most likely. And,” Winchester paused, raking a hand through his hair, “word has it that Azazel’s grand torturer has been collecting all the prisoners of war for his own…  _ amusements _ .”

“Alastair.” Castiel knew him. Knew him all too well. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. Rumors abounded that Alastair was a dark mage, possibly a blood mage, and had made an unholy alliance with Tenebrim long ago. Others said it was Alastair who’d caused the Great Human/Dragon War. Of course, if that were true, he’d be several hundreds of years old.

In either case, it was  _ his  _ spells that made the Tenebrim so difficult to fight. The lower soldiers didn’t seem to feel the pain of blows dealt until they were too far gone to heal.

It made fighting them a difficult task at best. Oh yes, Castiel knew him, as did all of Aetheria.

Winchester and his captain looked at him in surprise, appraising. Milton didn’t even bat an eyelash. She was well used to his random bits of knowledge.

“We think, with such a prize as Dean Winchester, Alastair will have him transported away from the battlefield to a more secure location before torturing him for information,” Milton continued. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much else for you. We know a party left earlier today, but we don’t know if it was him.”

Nodding, Castiel rapidly thought through his options. Getting  _ to  _ Winchester would be easy. Unless Alastair had protections specifically against Castiel’s kind. Still, even taking that into account, getting him back out without pursuit would be infinitely harder. What might be more problematic was the newly awakened bond.

Unless…

“What do you need?” Winchester broke into Castiel’s thoughts before they could fully form. “We’ve got horses – “

“No.” Castiel bit out harshly. The answer was so quick and vehement it surprised Winchester, Castiel could see, but a horse would be a waste on Castiel.

Lord Winchester stood blinking for a few seconds before finally recovering and his eyes narrowing in offense. “No? What do you mean  _ no? _ ”

Castiel opened his mouth but Milton cut in first.

“John, you’re a cavalry unit. We’re not. Most of our soldiers don’t even know how to  _ ride _ . It would be pointless to give him a horse. With no skill at riding, he’d waste more time than we’d all like.” She turned to glare at Castiel, making a subtle gesture with her hand towards Lord Winchester.

Sighing, he said, “My apologies for my… terseness. Captain Milton is correct. As well intentioned as your gesture is, and as understandable as it may be to get me on my way faster, a horse  _ would _ only slow me down.”  _ Though not for the reasons any of you think _ . “Thank you for the offer.”

Winchester’s eyebrows rose and he muttered something about pretty words that Castiel should not have been able to hear, but then, there were many things he could do that those around him knew nothing about.

“Tell me about your son. How shall I know him when I find him? And how do I best convince him to trust me?” Castiel moved on, cutting to the point. Winchester nodded appreciatively and moved towards a small table, reaching back to his belt and removing a large pouch. He placed it on the table, opening it.

“My son is just a little taller than you, 25 years of age, with brown hair, green eyes and freckles. He is well fit and a good fighter, and the best rider we have. His name is Dean and this–” Winchester upturned the bag and a locket fell out, amongst a few other things. He plucked the locket from the table and handed it to Castiel. “This is how he’ll know I sent you. There are very few like it, all carried by family. This one is mine.”

“And Dean will have his own, so if they match –" Castiel accepted the locket – a mix of gold metals with a horse etched into the front with a large W over it - and quickly opened it. Inside was the portrait of a beautiful blonde woman.

“Then you have the right man.”

“Unless someone has removed it from his person,” Castiel pointed out shrewdly, closing the locket and placing the chain around his neck. “I cannot see that Alastair would allow your son to keep any object that he might derive comfort from.”

“Good point,” Winchester acknowledged, but his lips twisted up in a smirk. “But these have all been bespelled. They cannot be taken unwillingly from their owners. Or to those who’ve been made custodians of them.”

“Tell him the best part,” Singer interrupted gruffly.

“They’re not just tokens, or family heirlooms we’d rather not lose. There’s a spell that makes the wearer untrackable by magic means. In most cases, this is ideal –“

“In this case, not so much. I can work with that.”

“That’s not all. Should you need it, and I pray to all that is holy that you don’t, there are healing spells stored. One time use until it can be renewed. But once you reach Dean you’ll have access to two of those. They can heal all but the deadliest of damage.” Winchester paused. “I hold no real hopes that you won’t need them, depending on how long Alastair has Dean in his… care. I just hope he hasn’t needed to use his already.”

“Let us indeed hope that is the case, and that I can reach Dean before any real damage can be done.” Castiel bowed slightly to the Lord and the two captains. “On that note, time is not on our side. I will make ready and depart at once.”

Winchester strode forward and, with both hands, he grasped Castiel’s shoulders. “You  _ will _ find him, right? Even if he’s already… will you bring him home?”

“I will do all that I can, Lord Winchester, I give my word,” Castiel promised, before slipping out of his grasp and out of the tent.

Castiel wasted no time in getting back to his tent. The preparations he would need to make for this mission were a little different than the ones he usually undertook.

Spying, sabotage, scouting the lay of the land – none of those things required him to keep others in mind. He went on those missions alone and could rely on skills and the natural, intrinsic parts of himself that he most often kept hid away. It would be – it had been in the past – disaster to reveal the truth to most of the populace.

But if all went well, the return trip would make the use of his normal tactics impossible. Not if he wanted to keep his secret.

He reached his tent, unsurprised to find Balthazar alert and waiting.

“New mission?” he inquired. He sat on his bedroll, checking over his leather armor for tears. Seeing what he could fix and what would require hands more skilled than his.

Castiel nodded and made his way to his own bedroll, trying to think what he should bring along with him. It was an unusual way to think and he almost missed Balthazar’s next words.

“Same as usual?” Balthazar’s tone was casual.

“No. Search and rescue,” Castiel replied simply, pulling out his backpack. Would the straps be long enough for his purpose?

Balthazar leaned forward, suddenly intent, the clash of his gear making Castiel turn to face him. “Really? Who’d we lose? Someone important?”

Castiel hesitated, wondering if the news about Dean was to be kept secret or not. He hadn’t been asked to keep it quiet but… it would make sense if the higher ups did, at least for the first few days of Dean being missing. Then again, he could trust Balthazar, he was certain. 

Something about Balthazar -- despite how chatty he was --  felt like he was holding back , like he had secrets of his own , and the strangely intermittent vibe of  _ Otherness  _ Castiel got from him had led Castiel to almost telling the truth on more than one occasion .

But he daren’t take that kind of risk, though he trusted Balthazar with all else.

He looked about the tent, which probably looked ridiculous to his tent mate, but he was listening carefully to make sure none were too near. He leaned over the small space to speak softly. “I think it’s not being widespread, if you understand my meaning?” Balthazar’s eyes widened and he nodded solemnly. “One of the Silver Hooves went missing in the battle. I would rather not say who without permission.”

That should be safe enough. He didn’t think Balthazar knew any of Winchester’s men well enough to be able to spot who was missing – or to even know who Dean was, specifically. The presence of Lord Winchester and his Captain were sure to already be making the rounds among the soldiers in their unit, so everyone would know  _ something  _ was going on. With Castiel disappearing right on the heels of their visit, it wouldn’t take anyone else much longer to figure out he was sent out on their behalf.

“Well,” Balthazar drawled, “you may not be able to say who, but it has to be someone high enough up on the food chain to warrant a search and rescue. Ordinary grunts like us –" Balthazar paused, “well, like me, anyway, I suppose. You’ve always been a bit different. You’re too valuable despite your lack of rank. But the rest of us, we wouldn’t rate high enough in anyone’s eyes, not even Milton’s, to get a rescue mission.”

Castiel heard the confounded tone that Balthazar let slip when talking about Castiel’s lack of rank. Balthazar was of the mind that Castiel should be more than a soldier taking orders.

He wasn’t the first to think that way. And he wouldn’t be the last. There was nothing Castiel could say that would explain why  without talking about a past best left buried for his own safety . In the end, Balthazar and countless others would remain befuddled by Castiel’s lack of ambition.

None of them had Castiel’s history.

He was sure that if they did, they would join him in his resolution to stay low and out of the way. Useful, but never the leader.

Castiel had too many deaths on his conscience.

“You’re taking considerably more than you usually do, Cassie,” Balthazar observed, concern dripping into his voice. “Exactly how long do you expect to be gone?”

Castiel looked down at the pack and how stuffed it was and came to a sinking realization. If he were to keep up appearances among his fellows, then this mission should be no different than any other which meant he couldn’t suddenly change his methods or it would invite questions.

Hell, it already had.

In addition, regardless of appearances, there was the size of the pack itself to consider. Rather than worry if the straps on the pack would be big enough, as he initially had, his real worry should have been if the pack itself was too big…

Everything he brought had to fit into one bag, and it had to be small enough that Cas could carry it if he were to embark on this mission as normal. The sticking point was that the things he would not need on the way in, he would most definitely need on the way out.

And yet, time was of the essence, especially if the suspicions Castiel hadn’t quite allowed himself to think about were true. He could not alter his plans for going in. He had to find Dean and he had to do it  _ fast. _

“Maybe so. When it is just myself, I am able to go in with less, but this is the first time I’ll be bringing someone back. I don’t know the state they’ll be in nor what I might need to get them going again. If he is tortured – the way back could be much slower than I am used to, and the supplies needed, would be more.” Castiel figured that was a reasonable enough explanation. Balthazar certainly accepted it.

With a sigh of relief, Castiel went over what he had packed. Two changes of clothes. One for him on the other side of all this, one for Dean – for who knew what state he would be in. Rations and medical supplies as well. Two waterskins, three knives, a whetstone and a tinder kit. And rope. Who knew what terrain they might befall that would not trouble Castiel on the way in. Bedrolls. Two of them. That took up the bulk right there.

There was no room for his armor or his swords and the pack was already too big for his intended mode of travel. The weight of it would drag him down, slow him more than he could risk.

There had to be another way.

With a low growl, Castiel set to changing. If he didn’t get into at least his light traveling armor, it would cast suspicion. Dammit, finding a replacement after he ditched his equipment was going to be more trouble than it was worth, but these were the pretenses he was forced to take  if he were to keep up appearances.

Life had been so much simpler when he was young.

The slide of metal on stone showed that Balthazar had resumed the upkeep of his weapons. That meant the chatter was bound to return. Balthazar loved to talk, almost as if he hated the quiet. He didn’t necessarily need reciprocation, just a willing (or the appearance of a willing) audience, which was one of the reasons why the two of them got along so well. Castiel didn’t talk much at all, quite happy to let Balthazar do all of it.

Now was no exception.

“I don’t know how you plan to do it. Hell, I don’t know how you do half the things you accomplish, but –" Balthazar’s words stopped, the sound of the whetstone also dropping away as Castiel shrugged his tunic off.

His head still caught in the shirt, he frowned at the sudden and strange silence. Before he could wonder what was wrong, or finish taking off his tunic, Balthazar stood, his booted feet hitting the ground with two dull thuds.

“By all that’s holy… Cassie…” Balthazar’s voice was strangled and Castiel whipped the tunic the rest of the way over his head, catching sight of Balthazar’s eyes staring disbelievingly at Castiel… at Castiel’s arm, as a matter of fact, where the spiraling mark still swirled and pulsed.

At the markings of a soulmate bond that had only ever existed within one species. A species that was supposed to be dead.

He hurriedly yanked a new undershirt in place and turned to face Balthazar fully, warily.

Castiel expected shock, maybe even disbelief, at seeing marks that moved of their own accord, but what he found was recognition.

Balthazar knew what they  _ were _ , which meant Balthazar knew what  _ Castiel _ was.

They stared at each other, both unmoving, the tension in the tent rising. Balthazar was a good soldier and he already had a weapon in hand. Would  _ Balthazar _ turn against him as so many had before? They’d had each other’s backs for so long… Castiel had literally trusted Balthazar with his life time and time again and had been tempted more than once to entrust him with his secret.

But if Castiel was wrong...

Gods, but he was so damn tired of hiding. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oriignal Promo Banner :D


	2. Daring Rescue

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

The next time Dean awoke, it was dark. His throat was parched and his head throbbed worse than before. All of his muscles screamed from being tied up for who knew how long at awkward, painful angles. All of it was aggravated by the bouncing.

_ Stupid, _ Dean thought muzzily.  _ This horse is either of poor stock or has been much mistreated _ . The horse’s backbone dug into his stomach and chest as he lay draped over the saddleless animal sideways.He was pressed up against something along one side, all angles and  –  _ oh, a packhorse. That explains why I’m draped over the withers _ . There was literally no other place for him to be. Judging from the trembling in every step the poor horse took, it was overburdened with the packs and Dean’s weight, being forced to run. Dean sent a silent apology to the horse. It wasn’t the poor creature’s fault it belonged to idiots.

_ Inexperienced, ignorant fools… _ They’d been so desperate to get Dean away from the front line that they’d tossed him across the first available horse they could find with no care for making sure it was comfortable. Then again, given who they were currently in conflict with, Dean couldn’t say he was terribly surprised.

Still, having grown up around horses, training with them and learning to train them, he couldn’t help feeling anger on their behalf.

At the very least, the anger was helping him keep his mind off his current predicament.

It took a few moments of fuming silently before Dean realized the horse was slowing. He was manhandled down and the ropes that kept him from falling off his mount were cut, leaving only the ropes on his wrists intact. Hoping they might have nicked the ropes tying his hands behind his back, Dean struggled, flexing against the ropes in an attempt to break them.

“He’s awake!” someone growled and pain exploded behind his eyes once more.

*** &*&*&*&*&*&***

_ Dean sat in the back of the room. Despite his status as Lord Winchester’s son he’d never been this close to the King or his advisers before. _

_ “This border skirmish has been going on for far too long,” King Michael pointed out. “With your men on our side, as well as the –“ _

_ “Just call it a war,” John Winchester said with a sigh. _

_ One of the King’s advisers glared at John for the interruption and Dean covered his face with a hand to hide his smirk. John had never been one to be impressed by rank. Besides, rumor had it that once upon a time, the King and John had been great friends, trained and schooled together. But then Michael became King and matters of state took precedence over friendships. _

_ The King's reaction to John's words seemed to bear out those rumors, at least to Dean’s eyes. He simply kept going, a very small smile gracing his lips before his face became bland once more. _

_ “We have more men, but the Tenebrims fight like they’ve been possessed. We need to make a clear and decisive victory… show Azazel we are not as ripe for the picking as he seems to think.” Michael pointed to the map on the table. “To this end, my war leaders and I have come up with a plan – but we need Angel’s Outfit and the Silver Hooves to pull it off.” _

_ A sound behind Dean made him frown and he turned to find Sam lurking behind a stand of armor by the door to his father’s war room. _

_ “Sammy!” Dean hissed, turning his body to further hide his brother. “What the hell? You’re not supposed to be here.” _

_ “Dean, I have a right to know. If I’m ever to follow dad’s footsteps, or fight by your side, or help lead the Silver Hooves - then I could only benefit from listening to how the decisions are made.” _

_ “Dad would kill you if he saw you,” Dean muttered, glancing back at the older folks huddled around the table, arguing finer points that Dean didn’t catch. _

_ “So? I won’t let him see me,” Sam insisted. _

Dean flitted in and out of consciousness, his mind looping over the  memories and events leading up to his current predicament.

Could any of this have been changed? He didn’t think so. What was his father doing right now? Bobby?

Sam?

God, how guilty was Sam feeling for the stunt he pulled? He probably believed it was his fault Dean got captured. It wasn’t. But Dean had no idea what actually was.

If only Dean had known that act of rebellion would lead to Sam sneaking away with the company and going  _ into  _ the fight! What the hell had he been  _ thinking _ ?

Dean was jostled out of his thoughts as his captors yanked on the ropes tying him to his horse. They let him drop painfully to the ground when they loosened and he grunted at the impact. Before he could catch his breath, he was jerked to his feet and pushed and pulled forward until he was thrown into a tent.

He couldn’t catch himself and he sprawled in the dirt, his breath leaving his body for an instant. His captors kicked him in the ribs a few times while laughing but left the tent. Dean supposed he should be grateful they didn’t do worse…  _ Gods, did they crack my ribs? I hope not.  _ Every injury he sustained would make any attempt to escape even harder.

_ And why the hell does my arm hurt so much?  _ He wished he could look at it. Dean still didn’t remember getting hit and there’d been no blood, but it hurt so damn much. It wasn’t broken, he didn’t think. The pain wasn’t right for that. He wiggled his fingers and strained at the ropes that tied his arms behind him but made no progress.

Still, he wasn’t about to just roll over and give up.

He was a Winchester, after all.

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

“That’s… That’s not possible.” Balthazar’s laugh was slightly hysterical. “But it sure explains a hell of a lot! Gods, you can’t be…  _ Castiel _ , you shouldn’t  _ exist _ . If even half the stories are true, then you were all slaughtered at least, what? Five hundred years ago? Longer?”

“Not all of us. At least. Not me. I think… I may be the last,” Castiel said heavily,  still  watching Balthazar warily.  He wanted to relax, to breathe a sigh of relief but didn’t think it wise yet to do so. Something struck him and his eyes narrowed.  “And you are more than what you seem yourself, to recognize on sight…”

“Never claimed to be anything other than what I am. I just may not have told you the whole of it. I have my reasons for hiding amongst the soldiery just as, as it appears, you do as well. Very good ones. This is the last place I’d have ever expected to find the last  _ anything _ ,” Balthazar said, dropping back to his cot.

“I guess I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets,” Castiel said dryly, noting that Balthazar still hadn’t told him what exactly  _ his _ was  but finally fully relaxing. The bone deep relief was almost enough to knock him off his feet.

“Maybe not. But I think yours rather trumps mine quite spectacularly.” Balthazar flashed him a cheeky grin, picking up his whetstone and continuing his task. He looked away and his tone took on the more jovial note that it usually held. “So, if what I remember is true, you won’t be the last of your kind any longer. Who’s the lucky person?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel said rather sullenly.

“You don’t  _ know? _ And you’re going off on an extended mission that could take you who knows where for who knows how long? Do you have a death wish?” Balthazar asked.

“To be honest, before yesterday, I have often wished for it. But then–” Cas covered his forearm with his hand. “Now there’s someone out there for me and I think… I could be wrong – gods know I’ve been wrong about so many things – but I think _ he’s _ my rescue mission. So, I have to go.”

“The bond mark appeared… yesterday?” Balthazar asked incredulously. “Gods, Cassie, you better pray that whomever it is wasn’t on the other side.”

Castiel paled. “That… hadn’t even occurred to me.”

“Obviously,” Balthazar said dryly. He dropped the whetstone once more, holding his blade up to the dim camp light for inspection. “That’ll have to do, I suppose.” He sheathed it and set it aside, standing and placing his hands behind his back to stretch and crack it.

Castiel couldn’t believe his luck. First, the ill luck to be discovered after all this time, but then the fact that Balthazar didn’t seem to care in more than a, “huh, that’s fascinating,” sort of way. He wasn’t sure if he could trust this. Still, it was Balthazar and if he knew any of Angels Outfit at all, Castiel would have to say it was him.

“Well, now that you know,” Castiel said, resigned but hopeful . “What are your intentions?”

“Intentions?” Balthazar looked taken aback, his brows knitted, his body unusually still. Then his eyes widened. “You’re my friend, Cassie, however reluctant you were to become one, and I’ll watch your back ever as always. My current intentions, however, are to help you fix that rather abysmal mess of a packing job you’ve got going on. What  _ were _ you thinking _?” _

“I’m thinking this isn’t going to work as well as it has in the past. I personally don’t need any of this but… when I reach my goal, all of it becomes absolutely necessary.”

Balthazar stepped to Castiel’s side of the tent and dumped the bag out on the cot. “All right, tell me the plan.”

It didn’t take long for Castiel to come to the conclusion that Balthazar was a genius. It had felt good to confide in someone for the first time in over 800 years – he’d been alone longer than Balthazar thought, but this far out, what difference did a century or two make? Cas was certainly no historian to care for such exactitude.

Still, other than a few cracks about looking good for his age, Balthazar had set right to work.

“You can steal clothes and weapons when you get there. You can say you stole the clothes to blend in and avoid capture. As for what you _do_ take, that token and some rations and waterskins will likely be best. Can you ride _at all?_ Because if you can also steal a horse, well, that’ll make things a whole lot easier on the way back.” 

Balthazar paused and gave Castiel a considering eye. “Course, you  _ could _ just tell him.”

*** &*&*&*&*&*&*&***

Castiel made his way through the cover of night to an unpopulated area. The skirmish  and resulting camps currently covered a fair amount of ground, so it took a bit of traveling to escape the prying eyes of anything on two legs. He took it at a light jog and when finally under the sparse cover of young trees, Castiel looked for a good spot before he took his pack off.

Amazingly, he found one nearly straight off and, with no one in sight, he wasted no time in stripping his clothes and stashing them in the bole of a tree. Now naked, Castiel picked the pack up off the ground and shifted the makeshift straps around that Balthazar had helped him design. He slipped his arms through the straps, the pack sagging low against his back. Not ideal for a human but…

Within seconds he’d shifted, his human body melting swiftly down into the compact version of his true form. Castiel took a few moments to stretch his legs, his blue black scales nearly invisible in the darkness, but his eyes glowing ethereally. His tail swished across the leaf strewn ground and he flexed the toes on all four feet, getting used to once more being  _ himself  _ again. He sighed in relief at the stretch of wings on his back.

He didn’t generally mind being human. But the one thing he truly missed was being able to fly, unfettered, free of worry, as high and as long as he wanted.

But that was no longer the world he lived in. Short, stolen flights were all that he could manage most times. It was one of the reasons he volunteered so often for the ‘suicidal’ missions. Sentries were literally not prepared for non-human intrusions, and Castiel could be very silent.

He snapped his wings back down to lay flush against his back and started running, the pack bouncing lightly, but not too awkwardly in the space between his wings. When he emerged from the young wood on the side closest to the Tenebrim camp, Castiel spread his wings and leapt, taking to the air.

The wind rushing past his face and ruffling through his feathers caused exultation to soar through him. He kept his mouth shut, however, smothering the happy sounds he wanted to make at feeling at home again.

The sky was littered with stars and for a few moments, he let his memories drift to happier times and just enjoyed the flight.

Soon enough – too soon – he got down to business, focusing forward and speeding through the air, his wings flapping swiftly as he climbed higher. He only wished he could have asked for something of Dean’s to aid his search. One sniff would have made a big difference.

Well, no use crying over things that couldn’t be helped.

First thing was first. Make his way over to the Tenebrim camp and ascertain if Dean was still there or not. He was betting on not.

*** &*&*&*&*&*&***

It was near dawn when Castiel snuck into the camp, first stealing clothes out of a tent on the outskirts. The clothes weren’t much different than his usual, though perhaps a little more rough spun. Azazel was not known for being generous to his subjects. He ruled with fear, and only those in his favor held any loyalty to him.

If the men in this camp didn’t have families to worry about, a good number of them might have deserted already.

Some already had. Those that were left… well, Castiel had seen firsthand some of the spells that Alastair employed over the soldiers. He’d on more than one occasion snuck into an all too silent camp. The soldiers going through their tasks by rote, in an unseeing daze. It had made his job easier to sneak in when those around him weren’t capable of seeing much past whatever task had been put in front of them. But it had made fighting harder, knowing these men likely didn’t want to be here.

A tugging pulled Castiel east but he held back. Balthazar’s words echoed in his head still. The idea that his soul mate could possibly be on the other side… just because he had the suspicion that it might be the missing Dean of Winchester, didn’t hold that it was true.

He could not allow himself to be swayed by the bond. He had to do a proper investigation. Because if Castiel was wrong, he’d have failed two times over.

Thankfully, the bond was so new that the tugging was light and easily ignored. It was more like the annoyance of a mosquito bite. Ever present, always in the back of his mind even when he wasn’t actively thinking about it. The reflex for his steps to wander a little more eastward than he intended was a lot like the absent mindedness of scratching at the bite, where you knew you shouldn’t but you found yourself doing it anyways, with no idea how long it had been preying on you.

Castiel strode with purpose around the camp. Despite the obviously bespelled nature of most of the fighters here, he still would have preferred to do this in the night to more easily avoid those who weren’t under a spell. It also made it easier to overhear things, when he could slink up to a tent and in the darkness be mistaken for a large cat or dog.

But he didn’t have that kind of time to waste. At least this early, not very many people were awake enough to question his presence in places. He found the tents holding the prisoners easily enough and circled around the back to avoid the guards out front, manifesting a claw and ripping a discrete line into the cloth. But when he ducked inside, there was nearly nobody there.

No, it was completely empty except for one person. Before he could slip back out the way he’d come, the single prisoner jerked awake with a choked cry. Castiel froze and hoped they didn’t raise a cry when they saw him. The guards probably ignored crying or pain filled cries and groans as a matter of course, but too much alarm and the guards would come in to make their prisoner ‘shut up’.

He needn’t have worried. The red headed woman  _ did  _ catch sight of him but she stayed silent even as her eyes widened and flickered to the front of the tent and back. Then she glanced behind him and understanding and hoped dawned in her eyes.

Oh no.

This was a complication Castiel hadn’t counted on. If he helped her escape, it could raise a hue and cry that would hinder his search for Dean.

On the other hand, she  _ might  _ be a source of information, especially if she was grateful for the rescue. His eyes flicked to the front of the tent and back at her and he raised a finger to his lips. She nodded emphatically and he moved closer.

He crept forward as slow as he dared to keep his steps silent, glancing often at the tent. His hearing may be exceptional as a human, but he couldn’t hold back the fear of being discovered.

As soon as Castiel reached her side, the redhead grinned through bruises and a split lip. “I am so  _ glad  _ to see you! I’d given up hope of being rescued,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse – either from disuse or screaming, who knew? – but she wisely kept it low.

He reached for her bound hands and sawed through them with the knife he’d stolen. “We have to be careful. I didn’t come here for you and my mission may be jeopardized if you are discovered missing.”

Her face fell. “You mean… they forgot about me?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are. I’m not an officer. I’m just a soldier.” Castiel sent a look of apology her way as he moved on to her ankles. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything personal, though.”

She sighed. “It never is. I’m Charlie, by the way.”

“Castiel.” The last rope split and he leaned back, slipping the knife back into his belt. “What can you tell me about the camp? Where are the other prisoners? We know they have more.”

“Moved ‘em all out yesterday. Split them up too. Some are going north to the keep up there – the one held by Lord Edgar, and some are being shipped out east to Alastair.” She shuddered. “I overheard I’m supposed to be going west, to Roman.”

“None of those are good options,” Castiel noted.

“Agreed.”

“Did you talk to any of the other prisoners? Was there one called Dean?”

“Nah. Talking is discouraged.” She paused. 

“Well actually, there  _ was _ a guy here. Came in unconscious, sometime in the afternoon, I think. He was fading in and out and had a pretty bad fever too… I think they really did a number on him when they took him out. They put him fairly close to me so I did talk to him a little, but he was pretty out of it and I never caught his name.” Charlie shrugged. “Then the guards came back in early evening and took him away again, separate from the others. And unless there’s other tents of prisoners, I’m the only one left in the camp.”

Castiel listened intently. This could be Dean. The timing was right, and if it were Dean, then at least he knew Dean was still alive.

For now.

Castiel nodded slowly. “Then this might work out better than I’d hoped. If you’re the only one left here, then I certainly don’t need to stick around and I don’t care how much of an uproar we cause in setting you free. In fact, I welcome it. If their attention is drawn here while I make my way to the other keeps…” he trailed off. His meaning was clear and Charlie was grinning wickedly.

“Then set me loose and I’ll create a little extra havoc on my way out,” she said. “It’s kinda my specialty, after all.” She winked and Castiel smiled.

He had a good feeling about this.

*** &*&*&*&*&*&***

Using Charlie’s information, Castiel knew he had to be thorough. The thrum and pull of his bond pushed him east but he had to ignore it.

What if he was wrong about who his soulmate was? I f he followed the urge to go east straightaway and Dean was not his soulmate , then he’d be condemning Dean to torture or worse.  And while Castiel would have found his soulmate, the fact that he’d abandoned his mission to do so would mean he’d earned himself to a life even more on the run than he already was, condemning his mate to the same fate. 

Which meant checking each and every keep Charlie had named, and that included backtracking away from most of the most likely options  _ and  _ the pull of his soulmate. Since the lone prisoner she saw didn’t get sent off with any of the other prisoner groups, Dean - if it  _ was _ Dean - could have been sent anywhere.

But with every stop he made, with every search that did not turn up Dean Winchester, Castiel became more and more convinced that Dean Winchester and his soulmate were one and the same.

He’d checked Roman’s estate first, after leaving Charlie at the border of the enemy camp, then he’d gone  north to Edgar's before coming here, to Ora Oppidum, the small town that served as a way stop between this and his next checkpoint.

The most likely one. The one the pull seemed to be coming from.

He launched himself off the roof of a house, his wings flapping and catching an updraft. The breeze felt good as he flew, but he barely paid attention to it, too focused on flying east now. With all his other options depleted a nd so much time wasted,  every flap was made with growing urgency.

With nothing to do but fly, Castiel’s mind turned to think about his soulmate. That he was a human was a given. Castiel had already decided it must be. That it was Dean Winchester, was likely. But what did that mean for Castiel? Would Dean even be amenable to this union? Humans had a way of defying things that nature had gone out of its way to arrange. There were few stories of dragon/human soulmates, and among them, even fewer still of humans who had rejected the soul bond…

But it had happened and Castiel knew nothing about Dean Winchester.

He knew the Winchester lands were among the more prosperous of the lands in all Aetheria, and its people were, by all accounts, content with the hand that ruled them there. So odds were that Dean Winchester would be a fair and good man.

But that didn’t mean he was ready to accept a dragon as his mate.

It was a worrisome thought, and Castiel knew too that if Dean rejected him it would be signing Castiel’s death warrant. Dean wouldn’t know that, however.

The bond couldn’t be wrong, but it could… hurt, when those that were meant to embrace each other did not. There was, of course, the pain of a fully rejected bond when both parties went their own ways… Castiel wouldn’t survive that, though Dean or whoever his human mate actually was, would. But to be trapped in a bond with someone who resented it?

Castiel wasn’t sure which would be worse.

So no, he refused to influence Dean’s decision in that regard if he could at all help it.

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

Dean was burning up, the words around him coming through a hazy tunnel. The throbbing pain in his arm had become excruciating and it was radiating through his body. Neither of his torturers had had much chance to do anything. If he’d had the energy to do so, Dean would have laughed at the panic in their voices. If he could but die before they could even  _ try  _ to torture him, he would count it as a win.

“– dying and we don’t know why!”

“Because you ham handed halfwits can’t do anything right! Why do you think I told you  _ not _ to harm a hair on his head? You’ve ruined everything!” The words were spoken in a strange, nasally slither that immediately made the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand up.

“But my lord, we didn’t!”

“You must have! Else –" the nasally voice cut off with a curse and something gripped Dean’s arm. He held back a scream at the twisting pull that only escalated the pain he already felt. Stars flashed before his eyes as his arm was forcibly twisted into a very unnatural position –  _ was the man trying to break it? Possibly _ – obscuring the brief glimpse of the stunned and angry man before him.

“Where did you get this?  _ Who was it? _ ” the man demanded.

“D-don’t know… w-hat yer… talkin’ ‘bout…” Dean gasped around the pain. 

Dean’s eyes focused on the person before him, drawn to the strange markings disappearing under the rolled-up sleeves. Red and black ink in harsh lines covered every inch  of the man  that Dean could see from this angle. They were nauseating to look at, something evil pulsing from the marks. Dean shuddered, confused. How could mere lines feel so… so  _ evil?  _ Was it the man they were attached to?

Blinking slowly, Dean’s mind working through a fog, his eyes traveled from the other man's arms and the cruel looking marks covering the man’s body to where the man gripped Dean’s arm - and the markings that now covered  _ Dean _ . 

Where had  _ those  _ come from? 

They looked different, thank the Gods, from the strange markings of his captor, but the man was most definitely staring at the lines covering Dean that hadn’t been there before.

On the arm that had been bothering him since the battle.

His captor - jailer? Would be torturer? Did it matter at this point? \- dropped Dean’s arm and Dean went limp in relief. It was short lived. A vice like grip pulled his head up, pinching his chin painfully in its grasp, long fingers circling his throat, choking him slightly. He stared into pale blue eyes set into a gaunt, scruffy face. The eyes were narrowed, searching him for a lie. They blinked and a slow, cruel smile spread across his face.

“Well now, you’re telling the truth aren’t you,  _ Dean?  _ You didn’t even know they were  _ there _ .  My, my… the opportunity we have been given… and you don’t even know what you have in your grasp,  do you? ” The man yanked him forward and Dean gasped. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

“I highly… doubt that…” Dean sputtered.

“You don’t believe me? Well, maybe you’re right. Only one of us will be having fun, and that will be me. I’m going to keep you alive for a looooong time, boy. Because you,” the nasally man’s grin grew impossibly bigger, “are going to net me the biggest fish there ever was.”

Dean’s head was thrown away from the man and was shoved down to the cell floor. He was too weak, too feverish and pain filled to do anything but fall and curl in on himself.

“The best part is,  _ Dean _ , that you’re not dying at all. This  _ will  _ pass… not that it will matter any, since I intend to…” the voice stopped and hummed gleefully, “inflict enough damage on you to make you wish you  _ were  _ dying. Don’t worry. We’ll start slow. Ease you into what to expect from now on.”

Dean shook, blinking his hot eyes and gasping as he listened to the steps receding.

They paused. “Oh, by the way, so you know the name of your gracious host, my name is Alastair. And I’ll be seeing you again very shortly. I just need to set up a few things first for this  _ special _ opportunity.” The cell door slammed behind him with finality and Dean passed out from the pain once more, only vaguely registering that the name sounded familiar, somehow.

*** &*&*&*&*&*&*&***

**  
** He woke, not sure how long he’d been out. The throbbing in his arm had actually receded some but the pain in his head from all the blows he’d taken was still excruciating. His skin felt clammy and hot to the touch, but he was, for the moment, mercifully alone.

Alastair.

The name was so damn familiar.  _ Why was it so fami -oh. _

_ Oh gods. _

He’d been given over to Azazel’s Grand Torturer. Dean could barely think straight, but he did recall that the man’s reputation was sickening – even if he couldn’t remember the stories in any detail – and in only one, short meeting, Dean didn’t feel like what he remembered of the stories did him any justice. Even though Alastair had barely done anything yet, the amount of creepy evil that emanated from him made Dean feel sick.

And what had he been talking about, what opportunity had Dean, specifically, given to this man that he was so damn happy to see him?

Somehow, Dean was sure it had nothing to do with the war.

The mark on his arm though… Alastair had been staring at that before his manner had changed so drastically. Where the hell had it come from? The only thing Dean could think of was impossible...

Huffing out a laborious breath, Dean tried to uncurl from his slump on the hard ground. For the first time in… in what? Days? His hands and feet both were unbound and he tried to take stock of his injuries. He’d been stripped of his armor, of course, leaving him in only a plain linen shirt and his pants. He’d been left his boots, for some strange reason but when he felt about himself, the only other thing left was the locket.

And they’d probably  _ tried  _ to take it too. Dean smirked, feeling some triumph in the fact that they couldn’t.

He might not have any control over anything happening right now, but at least he could eternally frustrate them with that.

And he would bide his time. There had to be a way out, and if there was, he was determined to be ready.

He’d barely managed to get himself up to a sitting position, propped against the cold – and apparently damp, how cliché – stone wall of the cell when he heard footsteps once more approaching his cell.

Already? How long had he been out that Alastair was returning so soon?

Dean tensed and stared at the door, where a small sliver of light creeped through the crack at the floor. It wasn’t much, meaning the hall outside was probably dimly lit. And what good that information did him, he wasn’t sure either, but despite his fever and the dizziness caused by lack of food and his head wound, he was determined to catalog everything he heard and saw.

Who knew what would turn out to be the crucial bit of information he needed.

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

Castiel lay panting on the branch that overlooked the wall. The stone monstrosity before him was fairly imposing but not the cause of his current distress. He shifted and hissed as his front foreleg nearly collapsed. The pain was nearly unbearable, but he’d been through worse.

This mission was taking him way too long.

It was the night of the fourth day since Dean had been taken. He’d left on the second. Having to check four different locations – as well as taking part in Charlie's rescue - had slowed him down considerably. The fever of his mark, a herald of things to come  –  and of the changes his body would go through if his soulmate proved to be Dean – had slowed him even further, making his flight rather more clumsy than it should have been.

If Dean wasn’t his soulmate , Castiel had just condemned all of them. There’d be no way he could keep going for much longer, and if he was wrong, if the mark  _ didn’t  _ react to Dean’s presence when they finally met, Cas was going to die and Dean would… well, that depended on his captors. Dying would be the most pleasant possibility if Dean wasn’t able to escape.

At least, wherever and whoever his soulmate was, if Castiel didn’t make it, they’d live on. Confused, sick for a little while, but they’d live.

Shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs, Castiel nearly growled at himself for getting lost in his thoughts again.  There was no time for this. He had to move on. Castiel only had a little time left. He couldn’t waste it thinking about the might happens. He needed to take action.

He watched the sentries on the wall. None of them were looking up and he’d timed his arrival for night. Slipping over the wall wouldn’t be difficult at all.

It was coming back that would present its problems.

Ignoring the pain flaring out from his soul mark, Castiel gathered his legs and leapt. He snapped his wings out for one, big powerful push and sailed right over the wall with none of the enemy wiser.

Dean would be kept where all prisoners were kept.

Below ground. Because when it came to prison cells, humans went for ease of construction rather than creativity to secure their prisoners. Not one place had he infiltrated ever changed this model. This made things easier now. Castiel could discount over half of the keep in his search for Dean, thus saving time he desperately needed.

He landed in the courtyard, behind a stack of barrels. If he’d judged right, he’d found the kitchen. It was late enough that it should be empty, and he nosed the door open and scurried inside.

Hopefully, at his current size, if anyone saw him in the dark, they’d think him merely an overly large dog.

Castiel had been right. The kitchen was empty, just a small glow coming from the main firepit.

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

Dean writhed on the straw pallet of the cell, in the grips of fever. With a whimper, he curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach, his knuckles white with his grip.

This was hell. It had to be. Why else would he be suffering like this?

Alastair had gleefully cut into him. Nothing major, not too deep, but enough for Dean to feel the pain. To  _ keep _ feeling the pain even after. Then he’d poured something into the wounds. It didn’t make them stop bleeding but made the pain so much worse that Dean couldn’t help but scream.

He couldn’t be sure how long Alastair had been at it, or if the man had even asked any questions. Already feverish, the pain had driven Dean incoherent. If he’d talked, he was sure it had been gibberish.

Dean hoped it was gibberish. Oh gods, don’t let him have betrayed his king, his friends and family. Dean wasn’t that weak, was he?

Now he lay alone in a dark, cold cell. His injuries were minor – Dean had suffered much worse in a hunting accident when he was sixteen – and he’d already torn strips off his tunic and bandaged the worst ones. Still, he knew worse was to come. Alastair wouldn’t continue to play so lightly with him.

Hell, he’d  _ promised  _ as much.

If only this strange fever and the pain in his arm and head would leave him so he could  _ think!  _ So he could try to formulate some sort of escape plan. He was unbound, but not helpless. Surely the next time the guards came for him, he could –

A sound against the door went almost unheard, but Dean stiffened as he just barely caught it.

Was Alastair back again for more pointless torture? What did he  _ want  _ with Dean anyway? Alastair’s words had been odd, making no sense to Dean whatsoever, but they had been no less foreboding. He’d finally remembered more about Alastair, about the reputation he held.

Alastair was the blood mage that worked for King Azazel. He was infamous for the cruelties he inflicted on people, and stories said he didn’t discriminate between his own countrymen and the prisoners of war that were brought to him. He took a joy in his work that was inhumane.  Very few people survived Alastair and escaped.

Dean was almost positive those few who had were only  _ allowed  _ to escape, so as to spread the stories of Azazel’s “Grand Torturer”.

That meant that either Alastair had come out this way to take advantage of the stream of prisoners coming in, or Dean had been spirited away straight to the heart of Tenebrim. The first was horrible to think of but the second… it would be nigh impossible for Dean to escape if it were true.

A thud and a scrape sounded at the door and Dean came to his senses enough to realize that the sounds were furtive.

No, surely that was his imagination?

He gritted his teeth and pushed up off the ground to a sitting position against the wall. His arm throbbed painfully with the effort, shaking as he did.

A final click sounded and the door cracked open, letting in a sliver of light. Dean looked about the cell quickly. Was there anything in here that he could use to defend himself? Even knowing the answer would have to be no, his heart sank at the sight of nothing useful.

Heart pounding, he watched the door creaking open slowly, till a human shape was briefly illuminated against the light, a silhouette of a hunched over man. He slipped inside, this unknown man, and carefully slid the door mostly closed before dashing over to Dean. He knelt by Dean’s side even as Dean tried to angle himself away from the stranger.

“Dean!” the man whispered hoarsely. “Can you move? Are you hurt?”

“I think so, and yes. Who the hell are you?” Dean whispered back. “And why should I trust you?” Alastair was known for playing cruel tricks. Could Dean trust that this wasn’t one of them?

The stranger nodded approvingly and reached a hand to his neck, pulling a chain over his head and holding it out to Dean, a locket dangling from the chain in his fist. “I asked your father how best to answer that and he gave me this.”

Dean recognized it instantly. Whoever this stranger was, if his father sent him then he must be trustworthy.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” he asked.

The stranger grimaced, tucking the necklace back over his head when Dean didn’t take it. “We’re playing it by ear. Here, I got you some clothes to change into. Can you do that, or do you need help?”

Dean hissed at the implication that he was weak. “I can take care of it myself. Just watch the door. Wouldn’t do either of us any good if someone locks us  _ both  _ in here.”

The stranger nodded and turned away and Dean slowly stood, making as quick work as he could of changing out of his old, torn and bloody clothes into the scratchier, but at least clean, ones that the stranger had given him. The shirt was tight across his chest, but otherwise, the stranger had done a good job at getting Dean clothes that fit. Sight unseen, that was actually a little impressive.

He kept his own boots though, grateful they hadn’t been taken.

Taking a breath, he joined the stranger at the door. Closer to a light source, Dean could now see the sheen of sweat running across the man's brow, the tiredness and dark circles around the brilliant blue eyes caught in the hall torchlight. He was unshaven, and the clothes he wore were a near match to what Dean wore.

“Weapons?” Dean asked quietly.

“Knives. Once we get out of the dungeon, I figure we can pass for servants. It’s the easiest way out. Nobody looks twice at those, and knives are more easily hid.” The stranger explained.

Dean grunted. He’d prefer a good solid sword in his hand, but he could work with knives. What the scruffy stranger said made a lot of sense.

Something nudged his hand and he found a knife being held out to him, hilt first. He took it, nodding, and followed after the stranger as he slipped back out the door and into the dank hall. Dean’s eyes darted about as they walked down the hall. He was steadier on his feet than he expected, the odd fever seemed to have died down some, though it was not gone completely, and a rush of anticipation filled him.

Blinking, Dean noted that there weren’t any guards down here. Just as he opened his mouth to say something to his would-be rescuer, the hall emptied out into a square room with a table and a handful of chairs… littered with the bodies of the guards.

He stared at the stranger in shock. Had this one man taken out four guards on his own with only a knife?

Color Dean impressed.

Eager to get out of there, Dean nonetheless stayed behind the stranger, trusting him to know the best way out. After all, he’d gotten inside. Still, Dean couldn’t help looking at the fallen weaponry forlornly as they left the guardroom and headed for the stairs up to the proper section of the Keep.

It was so quiet up there, so empty, that Dean figured both of his earlier ideas were wrong. This would be busier if it was the country’s seat of power, and night time would not stop the activity needed to keep a war going of it were closer to the border. Whatever the cause, wherever they were, that meant getting out would be easier than Dean had even dreamed of.

Step by step, they climbed the stairs. When they reached the top, the stranger motioned behind him and they both paused, listening. With a nod at Dean, the stranger pushed open the door and let out an audible sigh of relief when the other side was empty.

“From here on, we act casual. We’re servants sent on a task,” the stranger whispered.

Dean nodded. “Right. Uh, first…” Dean reached out to grab his rescuers arm. The man looked down at his hand in surprise and back up again. Dean blushed and pulled back, his fingers tingling. “What’s your name?”

The man blinked. “My apologies. Call me Castiel.”

“Castiel?” Dean rolled the name on his tongue, then nodded again. “All right, Cas. Lead the way.”

Castiel shot him a look at the shortened version of his name and Dean only smiled back. Together they walked openly, but with the sure and quick gait of someone who had somewhere to be. Pretending to be a servant wasn’t too different then being a solder, Dean realized. He already had the walk perfected.

Of course, he knew there was more to it than that, but it was a great start at keeping people from questioning whether you belonged or not.

Castiel lead them through the maze of the keep, pausing only when they reached the kitchen. He reached under a table, dragging out an oddly shaped bag. He opened it to pull out another one, this time empty, and tossed it at Dean.

“I don’t have enough food left for both of us, might want to grab a few things while we’re here. But don’t take too long. The kitchen staff should be waking soon, and we don’t want to get caught here. If we’re lucky, we’d get pressed into service but if we’re not…” Castiel didn’t bother saying anything else. 

Dean knew what he meant anyway and quickly went about the task Castiel had set for him. He grabbed bread and cheese and a bunch of apples, dropping one of them into is pocket rather than the bag, even as Cas adjusted the straps on his own and slung it over his shoulders.

Dean did the same, but just as they met at the door to the outside, a shout from outside had Castiel stopping dead in front of him, his hand reaching out to grasp Dean’s shoulder to prevent him from pushing forward.

Hissing, Dean yanked his shoulder out of Castiel’s grip and Castiel turned to stare at him in surprise. Dean grabbed at his shoulder. “What the hell did you do?”

“I…” Castiel’s eyes were wide and panicked and also… relieved. “I don’t know, but I have an idea. There’s no time to talk about it now. Can you swim?”

“Can I – we’re trying to escape! What kind of question is that?”

“Trust me, a relevant one.” Castiel opened the door a crack and motioned Dean peer through it. “We’ll be going into that tower on the wall. The drawbridge is up, but we can jump from the window into the moat. That’s our escape route.”

“You’re insane,” Dean muttered.

“Can you swim or not?” Castiel pressed.

“Yeah, I can swim,” Dean snapped back. He thought of the bread in his bag and sighed. Well, at least he’d gotten a few other things that wouldn’t mind getting a bit wet. Still, if this got them out safely, he wouldn’t argue.

Much.

Another quick look and then Castiel was leading them across the courtyard and into the tower. Dean swiftly closed the door behind them and turned to Cas – then turned back.

There was a rack of spare weapons by the door. He grinned and picked out a sword, buckling it on. That was more like it. As soon as it was in place, Dean relaxed. He felt much less naked now than he had before. He looked over at Castiel. “Want one?”

A brisk nod and Dean quickly selected one from the rack, hefted it and tossed it lightly at Castiel. He caught the scabbard and frowned at it for a second before buckling it on. “Acceptable.”

He turned away and resumed walking.

“What, no thanks?” Dean grumbled, following after.

They climbed the stairs past two landings before finding the one with a window. Dean eyed it uncertainly. There was no way either of them – fully grown men – were going to fit through the window and he said as much.

“Trust me, Dean, the window is bigger than it looks.” Castiel took his pack off and lobbed it out the window. Dean watched in shock as it cleared the moat and hit the bank on the other side with room to spare. Castiel turned and gestured for Deans bag and Dean hurriedly took it off and handed it over. He watched a second time was Castiel’s throwing prowess was once more demonstrated.

_ Whoever this guy is, he’s good. No wonder Dad sent him after me _ , Dean thought, impressed.

“All right, Dean. You first.” Cas stepped back and gestured at the window. Dean didn’t argue, swiftly climbing onto the ledge. He turned sideways to squeeze through, marveling that Castiel had indeed been right, then jumped, keeping his feet straight and bracing for the impact.

He slipped into the water cleanly, with a small splash, and when his head surfaced, he heard a second splash. Dean didn’t look, but immediately stretched out and started swimming. The moat wasn’t all that big and he just hoped nothing lived in it, but he got to the other side unmolested.

It was, however, very difficult to haul himself up onto the bank. Exhaustion and injuries he’d been ignoring were finally taking their toll now that they were safe.

Well, safer anyway.

The biggest hurdle was done. They were outside the keep and now they just had to make their way across Tenebrim without being seen.

Should be simple, right?


	3. Revealing Secrets

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

Careful this time to only touch the loose folds of his clothing, Castiel helped Dean up off the bank, then handed him his pack.

He had to be careful. Touching Dean… just being in the vicinity of his soul mate had caused the pain to recede, however briefly that would be - Castiel had no illusions that it wouldn't come back - leaving him level headed and clear thinking for the first time in two days. It would be a strain not to touch Dean. As much was possible, Castiel needed to keep his hands clear, only touching if necessary.

A prolonged touch would delay them, the spark between them inevitable, and would cause questions to arise that they just didn’t have time for.

It had been a near thing when he’d instinctively reached out to stop Dean from moving closer at the kitchen door. If the touch had lasted longer…

Better not to think of that now. It had already lasted long enough. Castiel was uncertain what he had done to Dean, but it was clear that something  _ had  _ been done to Dean. As soon as they were in a place they felt safe enough to stop and take a breath, Castiel was sure Dean would be on him for explanations.

He only hoped they would have enough time for Castiel to explain everything, or that Dean didn’t react badly.

That had happened, on occasion. A soulmate bond could be forcibly rejected.  Dragons didn’t often do it since it resulted in their deaths but humans… humans  _ had _ the option. And in that case, maybe he shouldn’t tell Dean what was going on after all? If Dean knew that Castiel’s life depended on his answer, would he feel coerced into agreeing to complete the bond?

Dean brushed him off as soon as he was standing and growled out, “I’m fine. Let’s just get going.”

Castiel withdrew, hurt hitting him harder than he’d thought. It wasn’t a rejection. Dean didn’t even know him enough to do that yet, but it felt like one anyway. Couldn’t Dean  _ feel  _ the mark? Couldn’t Dean notice how much better they were currently feeling while in proximity to each other?

Without a word, Castiel turned and started briskly walking towards the trees. It was almost dawn and they still stood by the moat on open ground. Dean was right. They needed to get going. Castiel could always think as they walked.

They walked for far too long in silence, the urge to talk pricking strangely at Castiel. He kept swiveling his head, looking and listening for any type of pursuit. Talking  _ now  _ would be unwise but when they got further away…

Dean stumbled along beside him, reaching into the bag Castiel had given him and withdrawing a couple of the apples he’d managed to snag. He handed one silently to Castiel and he eagerly took it. When was the last time he’d eaten, anyway? The two of them ate quietly as they walked, pausing twice for a breather.

It was midday when Dean finally spoke up. 

“Couldn’t have killed ya to find us a few horses?” Dean grumbled.

Castiel answered before he realized the words were not meant to be heard. “Horses could not have jumped through the window.”

Dean froze and stared at Castiel. “You got hearing like a hawk or something?”

Frowning, Castiel cocked his head at Dean. “You spoke. I heard. If you didn’t want to be heard, then do not speak.”

Huffing, Dean resumed walking. “So who are you anyway? I mean, other than your name is Castiel and you were handpicked by my father to save me.”

Shrugging, Castiel said, “I’m not sure what you want me to answer. I’m a… a common soldier under Milton’s command. And your father didn’t pick me. Captain Milton called me and I volunteered.”

“Volunteered willingly or unwillingly? I mean, rescuing some Lord’s spoiled brat from behind enemy lines is probably not a choice mission, perhaps even suicidal.” Dean pointed out.

“I always volunteer for the suicidal missions. Someone needs to do them,” Castiel said evenly. “And I have a higher chance of success than most of my fellows.”

“Well, you certainly have a high opinion of yourself,” Dean snorted, ducking under a branch.

“And you have a rather low opinion of yourself. Do you really think of yourself as a spoiled brat?” Castiel held up another branch for Dean to pass under. Castiel was highly interested in hearing the answer. This was his mate, after all.

Dean shrugged. “I mean, no? I trained hard to follow in my dad’s footsteps -  though I think that should really be my brother, not me  \- but I’m sure that’s how others see me. Especially if they don’t know me. And, let’s face it, you don’t know me.”

“Then why don’t you tell me about yourself and let me get to know you?” Castiel jumped on the opportunity, trying not to sound too eager. “We have a long trip to make, after all. Once we’re well enough away for it to be safer to talk…” he trailed off invitingly.

Dean merely grunted and kept walking forward, staying silent. Unsure if that was an assent or if Dean was ignoring him, Castiel remained quiet as well.

Traveling with Dean was almost torture. To know Dean was his mate… and to be afraid to tell him? To have him so close, and not let himself touch him even in the most innocent of ways…

He wondered if Dean felt it. If Dean understood what it meant.

The first few hours of the journey were mostly silent, concerned with getting as far from Alastair’s keep as possible and out of plain sight. A couple of times, they had to hide in the brush or, failing the availability of suitable cover, climb a tree to avoid what looked like to be routine patrols or messengers from the front.

Once they both had deemed themselves well enough away, they began to talk quietly. Not much, at first. A little here, a little there. Castiel tried not to get too invasive. As much as he wanted to get to know Dean, Dean had no reason to want to tell him anything. None that  _ he  _ knew about, anyway.

It was awkward at first, but thankfully, once he got going, Dean eagerly talked to fill the silence, saying just enough that Castiel could answer him in kind. There wasn’t as much Castiel could talk so freely about before revealing himself, but Dean’s conversation made it easy for him to interject a thing here or there so that it wasn’t just Castiel getting to know Dean, but Dean also getting to know Castiel. As mates should.

“So, you said you serve under Captain Milton?”  Dean asked. They were walking shoulder to shoulder, and Dean had wisely pitched his voice low. He could have gone lower and Castiel would still have heard him, but there was no good way to tell him that without inviting other questions.

“Yes, Angels Outfit.  Not a cavalry division, I can tell you that much,” Castiel said with a small smile and was pleased to hear Dean chuckling softly. 

“Ah, I’ve heard of her. Dad speaks quite highly of her.” Dean nodded approvingly.  “I’ve heard the Angels are good fighters. You folks cover a lot of ground despite being on foot. You rival some of the best cavalry men and women I know. It’s damn impressive. How’d you get this cushy detail?”

“Right place, right time?” Castiel shrugged, debating what to say. He wasn’t surprised Dean knew of the Angels and their reputation. He was being groomed for command, after all. “I’m often picked for the more… dangerous and less likely to succeed missions.”

“Whoa…,” Dean said, apparently further impressed. Castiel tried not to preen. “So, either they’re trying hard to get rid of you, or they just trust you that much?”

“The latter,” Castiel said, his mouth quirking up a little. “Though I suppose, if it were the former, they wouldn’t be telling me that.”

“There is that,” Dean conceded. “What’s your success rate?”

“Well, I’m still here,” Castiel noted. Dean paused, turning to give Castiel a look and he shrugged again. “Most of the missions I’ve been given are succeed or die. I’ve long since lost count how many. The captain probably knows, though.”

“You must be pretty high up in the ranks then,” Dean said, starting to walk again.

“Actually, no. Not that they haven’t tried to promote me but…” Castiel paused and restrained a shudder. “I don’t… I can’t…” he sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s better I work alone.”

Dean’s hand touched his shoulder, the touch meant to be comforting but it sent heat ricocheting through Castiel’s body, almost burning his skin even through his tunic. Dean quickly took his hand away, shaking his fingers absently.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories,” Dean said gently. “I’ve seen men and women who’ve fought in wars and skirmishes… and…” Dean let out a breath. “And I’ve seen how it changes them. I’m sorry.”  

“It’s all right,” Castiel said, even though it was far from all right. Dean’s words had brought up memories he’d thought he’d repressed long ago. The night he’d been tasked to find Dean had almost done the same, but he’d been too preoccupied with the idea of a soulmate to fall into that abyss.

“Do you… do you ever talk about it with anyone?” Dean asked hesitantly.

Castiel sighed. “My words were… perhaps a little misleading, though it was unintentional, I assure you. I don’t just get picked for these missions, I volunteer for them. My tentmate has more than once made issue of the fact that it appears I have a ‘death wish’.”

Dean was staring at him and Castiel refused to meet his eyes. He was already saying more than he was usually comfortable with but… this was his mate. Dean had a right to know things, needed to get to know Castiel if there was to be any future, any decision to be made.

“He might not be wrong,” Cas continued, stopping briefly to clear his throat. “The things I have seen and done or failed to do… it’s been hard to live with and no, I have never talked with anyone about it. There’s been no one I  _ could  _ talk to. And yet… I have nothing else to do with my life and no wish to live it alone. So, here I am. And I let others make the hard decisions because I can’t anymore.”

Shrugging as if he didn’t care what Dean thought – but he did! – Castiel said, flatly, “So that’s me. A coward. I’ve been running from my past for longer than I can remember…” Or longer than he should admit, just yet. Castiel had lived a long time… far longer than a human was capable of, unless said human was bonded with a dragon, or was the diluted descendent of one. It was rare, but possible, as evidenced by his current situation.

“No, Cas,” Dean said suddenly, startling him. “I don’t think that’s quite true. Maybe I don’t know you well enough yet but… A coward wouldn’t have gone into the heart of enemy territory to rescue someone he didn’t even know. And I know you said that it was because you just didn’t care about yourself anymore, whether you lived or died but… I just don’t get that vibe off you. I think you do care, about a lot more than you let on and it’s because of that… I mean, I think maybe that’s why you’re running?”

Letting out a small gasp, Castiel hoped Dean hadn’t heard it, heard how unsettled and off balance Castiel suddenly was.

“Cause, yeah, I’ve heard more than a few terrible tales from people I know well who’ve been in battles all their lives,” Dean continued. “You gotta understand that these are some of the best people I know and things they’ve seen and endured or have done - they suffer  _ precisely _ because they care too much. So I think… I think, uh, whatever you’ve done or not done? That you feel this way, it’s a mark in your favor, rather than not.”

Castiel stared at Dean, his eyes wide and stunned. The two of them had stopped walking and Dean had turned to face him. Castiel had to tilt his head up slightly to stare into Dean’s eyes but he did it and he searched those green eyes for… for what? He wasn’t sure, but surely Dean couldn’t really believe all that about a man he barely knew?

But it… it felt good to hear that from someone. It eased something inside him that had been there so long he’d ceased to acknowledge it other than as a heaviness that weighed on him and made sleep hard to reach at night.

Finally, Castiel gathered himself together enough to speak, saying only, “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean broke their gaze with a blush that was all too becoming. Despite the ordeal he must have endured over the past few days – the capture and subsequent ill treatment at Alastair’s hands - Dean was so alluring. He was far too beautiful for Cas to believe and realize  _ – this is my mate! _

And to find him so understanding and generous and kind…

_ No one ever was able to explain to me how it works, but I guess the bond really knows what it’s doing. I hope we get the chance to finish the binding. I think… I think with him by my side, I could finally know peace… _

Castiel marveled at the thought, at the idea of a future he’d long since given up on, as they continued on their way.

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&* **

As they walked, Dean took the chance to really look at Castiel, though he tried not to be too obvious about it. It was hard not to stare. Dean had to  acknowledge fairly quickly how gorgeous Castiel was. Strong muscled, fluid movements, those  _ eyes _ and the scruffy face. But Dean was always circumspect in his bedding partners. He must be sure that whoever he chose would not cause issues for the family.

He would not cause harm to befall the family for his own rash decisions.

As pleasant as Cas seemed to be, the man was still a soldier. And by his own admission, a low ranked one at that. Any dalliance Dean and Cas had could be only that, if Dean chose to risk pursuing him. Falling in love was not an option but damn did Cas make him wonder about what things would be like if it was.

Wait.

Falling in love?

This was stupid. He’d only just met Cas. Dean had been hit on his head too many times if he was thinking about falling in love with someone he didn’t even know. In an effort to distract himself, Dean thought about his rescue, and the more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.

Dammit. He’d just been rescued like a damsel in distress. He was a fighter! A fully capable one at that. He should never have been captured to begin with.

“Are you all right, Dean?” Cas interrupted his thoughts, concern written over his face with the tilt of his head, the scrunching of his brow.

“Yeah, fine,” Dean lied. He was still in pain, still somewhat feverish and he was exhausted and hungry. But none of that could be dealt with till they felt they’d gotten far enough away to feel safe stopping somewhere.

“Dean?” Cas stopped walking and turned to face Dean fully. He didn’t reach out, but Dean caught Cas’s arm twitching at his side like he really wanted to.

What kept him from doing so? Was he also attracted to Dean? No. Dean was being stupid again. Dean was definitely not at his best right now; beaten, battered and bruised, dirty and unshaven - there’d be nothing to be attracted  _ to!  _ So therefore, Cas was treating him like the damsel Dean had just likened himself to.

Dammit.

Dean stopped and growled out, “Fine as I can be, when I was dumb enough to get captured and need rescuing – like one of those stupid fairytale princesses who can’t think or even lift a finger to help themselves.”

“No, you are most definitely not a fairytale princess. You are… very decidedly male,” Castiel answered calmly, his eyes heated as they raked over Dean’s form before he yanked his eyes away.

Dean  
blinked, not expecting that answer. Not expecting that… _desire._ Or that his own was reciprocated.  
Before Dean could decide what to do about it, Castiel spoke again.

“If it bothers you that much, I promise you can rescue me next. Now come, we are wasting valuable time.”  Castiel resumed walking and Dean shook his head and followed after in a daze.

What kind of a promise  _ was  _ that? Who _ promised  _ something like that?  _ The man’s crazy,  _ Dean figured.  _ Or I’m mishearing things. _

Dean was unsure how far they’d actually gotten, the foliage blurring before his eyes, before Castiel finally called for a stop.

Though called was the wrong word for what he did.

Instead of saying anything about stopping, Cas simply did, dropping his pack beside the clear water of a tiny pond in some small clearing and beckoning Dean over with a head tilt and an impatient hand gesture.

Not like Dean was going to argue. His head  was swimming too much to keep going , and Dean gratefully trudged over to Cas, dropping his own pack beside the first.

The first thing they did was refill the water skins.  The sky was turning red, but at least they still had light  since they daren’t try for a fire , despite the cold . Alastair’s men were still out there, and Dean knew he and Cas would be fools to believe Alastair’s men weren’t looking for them by now.

Some of those patrols they dodged may have, in fact, been search parties. There’d be no way to tell the difference. They’d still be the enemy, armed to the teeth and looking for intruders and spies.

Dean shivered and silently lamented the lack of his armor, or a cloak, or even a blanket of any kind.

“My apologies. I had to travel light.  I had assumed some supplies would need to take precedence over others,” Cas noted. Cas’s fingers probed at Dean’s head wounds more gently than Dean had expected. “It’s obvious from all our travel today that nothing is broken or sprained, but you have a lot of dried blood on your head.”

“Yeah, got hit a few times over the head,” Dean said with a rueful grin. “Didn’t dodge fast enough. It’s actually the first day it hasn’t been pounding.” It throbbed and he winced at the lie. “Well, not pounding as much, anyway. And I’m surprised I’m feeling the chill right now, I’ve been running so hot for days. I thought I’d taken an infection…” Dean stopped talking and bit his lip.

Cas’s hand swiftly felt at Dean’s forehead for a few seconds and Dean couldn’t believe how hot his touch was. “Mm… fever? Likely from a concussion, lack of food and sleep. You _ were  _ a little hot earlier, but you seem much cooler now. That’s a good sign.”

Pausing, Cas tilted his head. “Most of your wounds aren’t that great, though head wounds are always tricky. Your father told me the lockets hold healing spells - why not use one?”

Dean shook his head. “No. It’s not that bad and we could wind up in a worse position. I’d rather save them.”

“I… suppose I can see the tactical advantage to that, but keep in mind we have two of them, and there is such a thing as waiting too long,” Cas said, his hands resuming their task of patching Dean up.

After the abuse of the past few days, the rough handling and Alastair’s cutting, the gentle touch was… nice. It only reinforced Dean’s idea that Castiel was a better man than he gave himself credit for. Though truly, what did he really know about him?

_ I seem to be drawn to him _ . Those blue eyes of Cas’s were breathtaking and Dean had a hard time not drowning in them. They had depths that remained hidden behind the haunting sadness that emanated from them.

Dean swallowed as Cas pulled his hand away and he quickly reached out to catch Cas’s wrist.

“What about you?” Dean asked in concern. “You’re running a little hot yourself. Did you… are  _ you _ hurt?” Mentally, Dean kicked himself. He hadn’t even thought the man might have been injured. But there was the evidence of the guardroom and all those guards that Cas had taken out.

On his own.

Surely, he couldn’t have gotten away without a scratch? What if  _ Cas  _ had taken on an infection?

“I’m fine, I assure you. It’s just been a long trip. Let’s see if we can get some of this cleaned off and properly bandaged,” Cas said. “We can’t afford you getting an actual infection or we’ll never make it back.”

“Right,” Dean said with a nod, levering himself to his feet. He regretted the sudden movement and was very grateful when Cas caught him before he could topple over. Far from being resentful about it, as he may have been in the first few hours after they’d met, Dean marveled at the other man’s strength. 

He’d only known Cas one day, and he didn’t talk much but his concern was real.

Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it, or the man, and when he slept that night, his sleep was restless and plagued with blue.

*** &*&*& Castiel *&*&*&**

The second day also passed uneventfully in this way. Castiel had expected a large outcry over their disappearance, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all too easy. He became increasingly nervous, looking over his shoulder to spot… nothing. Just the path of their own choosing.

Even the patrols they thought they’d heard grew sparser the further they went.

But Castiel’s tension continued to rise.

As did the agitation of the soulmark.

Nor was walking with Dean as simple as he’d hoped when they started their trek.

Keeping up the façade around Dean was one of the hardest things Castiel had had to do in his lifetime. The second he’d opened the cell, he’d known Dean was his mate. The idea that Dean didn’t yet know was hard, every instinct of Castiel’s calling out to  _ tell _ him.

But he couldn’t. This was neither the time, nor the place. Their survival was what was most important right now and they couldn’t afford any setbacks should Dean not take the news as well as Castiel hoped. 

By midday, the mark on his arm had once more ramped up, throbbing painfully, the feeling echoing up his arm and into his head.

Still Castiel pushed on, Dean walking sometimes alongside him, sometimes behind him. 

“Apple?” Dean said, his words mushed as he spoke around the bite he’d taken of his own apple. “It’s the last one.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, reaching out to take the red apple. Bruising had already started, one side of the once pristine apple already blooming with it, but Castiel took a bite of it anyway. Hunger always had a way of making things taste like the best meal one had ever had, and Castiel hadn’t exactly brought along enough provisions. Most of what they had were supplied by Dean after Castiel had told him to raid the kitchen.

He’d done a very good job of finding things that would keep a short while, but Dean had only taken so much and Castiel’s appetite was unusually high thanks to his nature.

It wasn’t like Dean had known more would be required.

Still, Castiel should be able to ignore it, at least for a short time. Planned for carefully, the hunger usually didn’t hinder him so much, but the bond was messing with his equilibrium and he was feeling the pinch of hunger much greater than he normally would.

Castiel was going to have to gorge himself later to make up for this.

He devoured the apple and licked his fingers before he realized it was even gone and he restrained the sigh that tried to escape.

He’d manage.

Castiel had been through worse in his lifetime.

By the time they’d stopped for the night, Castiel’s fever had gotten much worse and his arm had gone partially numb, but he tried to act as if everything was perfectly normal. Judging by the lack of suspicion on Dean’s face, the performance was working.

Maybe after a good nights sleep he’d be rejuvenated enough to keep going? 

Castiel had a feeling it was a vain hope, but hope was all he had going for him right now, so he would hope with all his might. 

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

For the second night since Castiel rescued him, Dean tossed and turned as he slept, his rest all too fitful. There was something about Castiel that he just couldn’t put his finger on. He spent almost the entire night feeling as if he were on the verge of an epiphany, yet nothing came.

He thought once more of the things he knew about his rescuer so far. The longer they were together, the more he knew, despite how close lipped Castiel was. But that was normal. The more time you spent with  _ any _ one, the more you should know about them, and them you. It was a rare situation that yielded any other sort of results.

Still, no matter how much he learned, Dean couldn’t figure Castiel out. 

He didn’t like to be touched and touched Dean as little as possible, but Dean could swear he’d seen wistful glances after each almost touch. He was, by turns, talkative and tight lipped. Every piece of information Dean gleaned from Castiel was hard won.

And worse, the man didn’t seem all that familiar with their route. He knew of generalities, but not how long it took to get to each one, severely underestimating the time between his landmarks.

How had he rescued Dean if he didn’t know the way back? Had he found Alastair’s stronghold by  _ accident? _ Gods, Dean hoped not, or they might be wandering lost in enemy territory forever.

Yet the man drew him, had been approved by his father and  _ had  _ succeeded in breaking Dean free. Dean was certain that Castiel was keeping some secret from him, but Dean couldn’t even fathom what it could be. For one, he seemed too well spoken to be the common soldier he claimed. And two, the look in his eyes when Dean had accused him of going on suicide missions…

It had been haunted, sad… even resigned.

Light slowly replaced the gray of predawn, filtering through the trees. Dean rolled to a sitting position with a grunt, clutching at his arm. All of Dean’s injuries had been tended to, cleaned and bandaged, yet his arm still hurt, though there was nothing visible except for the ink that spread down its length. 

He still had no idea how it had appeared.

Cas hadn’t said anything about the strange markings on Dean’s arm, though his eyes had lingered there, like they were trying to memorize them. Dean felt self conscious enough that he wished he had something to hide them with, the short sleeved tunic they’d stolen doing little in that regard. Two days wasn't enough time to truly heal, but Dean’s arm was  growing worse instead of better. He was even more confounded that it seemed something was wrong with Castiel as well.

Castiel shifted in his sleep, a near inaudible groan pulling Dean’s attention – to find Castiel clutching at his  _ own  _ arm, his brow furrowed with sweat beading along it.

Getting to his feet, Dean slowly approached Castiel before leaning down to shake him awake, then leaping back in expectation.

But Castiel didn’t do as normal. He didn’t spring to his feet, alert, his blade in hand.

Instead, Castiel’s eyes snapped open with a gasp and the feverish light in them had Dean returning to his side in concern.

“Cas? What’s wrong?”

“Gods,” Castiel gasped. “I thought… we had more time…” his breathing was labored and his body shaking.

“More time for what? What’s wrong with you?” Dean’s eye slid down again to where Castiel was clutching his arm. Suspicion flooded through him and Dean reached for his sleeve, intent on seeing what Castiel was hiding.

Castiel’s eyes widened and he pushed himself up laboriously to scramble away. “No!”

“No? Cas, something is wrong and…” Dean held a hand over his own arm briefly. “It can’t be coincidence… show me what’s on your arm!”

“No, we… we should have had more time…” Castiel mumbled.

“Your arm, Cas? Does it pain you as mine does me?” Dean asked insistently. Castiel looked away.  _ Aha! _ “They are connected, somehow, aren’t they? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Have you ever heard of Soul Marks?”

Dean blinked down at Castiel. “Soul Marks? That’s… not a human thing. It’s a dragon thing…” he said slowly. His mind whirled as he thought through the implications of Castiel’s words. “But the dragons are all gone… Aren’t they?”

“All but one,” Castiel said quietly. He closed his eyes, then finally slid the sleeve of his tunic up.

Dean stared dumbfounded as Cas revealed lines that matched his own, lines that had not been on his skin until a few days ago.

The lines seemed to swirl under his gaze. Surely they weren’t… moving, were they? How was this possible?

“How…?” Dean choked out. How, how, how? How were dragons still alive? How could Castiel be one of them? How could a human bear the mark of a dragon? No, he knew the answer to that one. But how had this happened to  _ Dean  _ of all people?

And then he growled and his eyes narrowed, fury whipping through him. “You’re the reason I was captured to begin with,” Dean snapped out. “This  _ mark _ you placed on me, somehow, against my will – it burned me during battle – causing me to fall from my horse, unable to regain my seat, and unable to wield my sword from the pain it caused.”

Dean stepped closer, his hands clenched into fists. “It’s your fault!”  He shouted.

Castiel paled. “No! I – I had no idea this would happen! I thought – I was alone. That there was no one for me. I’m the last. This should have been impossible. I didn’t  _ do  _ this to us! Dragons have no control over soul marks!”

“Yeah, well, it’s happened. So, what do we do now?” Dean snarled.  He forced his fists to unclench and to take a breath as he waited for Castiel’s answer. Soul Mate bonds. It was impossible but here they were. It was amazing actually. Dean knew none of this was  _ really  _ Castiel’s fault and his anger faltered. 

Now what? Would a life with Castiel be so terrible? Dean was thinking no. The physical attraction been there from the start and Dean had already begun to like Cas the more he’d gotten to know him. It was crazy but… somehow, Dean was looking forward to it already. 

“You’re… free. Untraceable,” Castiel gestured at the locket that Dean hid under his stolen tunic. “And if you… you’ll live. Should live. You’re human. You’ll be fine. You can leave me here and go.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed further. He felt like shit, exhausted and worn out. The pain of his arm kept rising with each day, the strange fever he now suspected was connected with it coming and going, but there was something missing from Cas’s words.

“What about you?”  Dean pushed .

Cas looked at him, his blue eyes briefly looking directly into Dean’s before casting his gaze aside. It was long enough for Dean to see resignation there. And for some reason, despite his anger, it hurt Dean.

“I’m a dragon. There’s only one outcome for me. I’ll only slow you down. It’d only be a matter of time.” Castiel took a breath and let it out shakily. “Might actually be too late. It would behoove you to ensure your survival and leave me, strike out on your own.”

“You’re giving _ up _ ?” Dean said incredulously. “ You’re just going to lay down and  _ let  _ yourself die?” He didn’t know why he was surprised, or why he even cared,  but he knew what Cas wasn’t saying outright, could hear it between the words of what Cas said and didn’t say.

  
Dean wasn’t even sure how he felt any longer. He’d started to like Cas, had even caught himself more than once watching his gorgeous rescuer and wishing… it wasn’t as if Dean’s desire wasn’t returned. But the man seemed to be holding Dean at arm’s length,  and now Dean knew why. No, he didn’t. If they were soulmates, shouldn’t Cas have been  _ eager  _ to tell Dean instead of hiding it? What did Cas even hope to accomplish by that? Unless… what if  _ Cas _ didn’t want  _ Dean? _

Cas blanched and looked away. "Gods. I wasn't going to tell you any of that."

"Why the hell not, Cas?" Dean bit out, unable to contain his hurt at being rejected. It didn’t even make sense – they hadn’t known each other long enough for it to hurt. "Seems to me it’s fairly crucial information I needed to know."

"Because I did not want to unduly influence you, Dean. I don’t want you choosing this –  _ me! _ \- out of guilt!” Cas looked up, despair and anger clouding his eyes. “If you were a halfway decent man – which you seem to be – then you won’t even hesitate to complete our bond and you’d wind up resenting me later for it! That is no life for either of us to live!"

“Too late for that," Dean muttered. "I’ve already made my choice, but it's not out of guilt."

"We haven't known each other long enough for you to make a decision as heavy as this, Dean," Castiel said with a shake of his head. “We should have had more time to get to know each other – this is hitting me far too fast – but I can’t have you –"

“I know, you’re right. We haven’t known each other that long,” Dean agreed ruefully. “But it doesn't matter. I feel it in my gut. And, what I’ve learned so far I’ve liked. So, live with it. Got it? I want you to live and not just roll over and give up."

No longer angry about  _ what  _ happened – Cas was right, it wasn’t something either of them could have controlled – Dean glared at Cas, his anger shifting and turning as Cas stared right back at him unblinkingly, eyes feverish and confused at Dean’s adamancy.

Instead, it burned Dean to know that Cas  _ had  _ known about the marks the entire time and had said  _ nothing. _ Didn’t Dean have a right to know? And he was angry at Cas for putting him in this situation   
to begin with, even though Dean knew  _ logically _ that Cas had no control over the mark. He was   
angry that he’d been lied to and scared -

Gods, he  _ was  _ scared – for both of them. Because now Dean thought he might understand what Alastair   
had said to him.

Dean’s eyes widened and he reached for his blade suddenly alert. He scanned their surroundings, trying to note all the places someone could ambush them.

If Cas was what Alastair wanted, then what was he waiting for?

A sound at his feet had Dean glancing back down to Cas, who was… was…

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Dean, just get it over with. Kill me now and put us both out of our misery. Save yourself.” Cas knelt, head bowed, before Dean. Whatever he was really feeling was hiding from sight except for the hunched and tense shoulders.

Staring at the man – no, the dragon in the shape of a man – who kept trying to put Dean ahead of himself, Dean’s anger drained away and he came to a decision. “Get up and pick up your blade. I’m not killing you, Cas.”

Castiel stood slowly, blinking in confusion, his head tilted with the most perplexed look on his face. It would have been adorable if the situation weren’t so dire. “Then why…?”

“I just remembered something and I don’t think we’re safe. Alastair – he knew what this was when I didn’t —” Dean touched his arm briefly, then let his hand fall again. “And he was _happy_ about it.” Dean returned to checking around them. “I think he let us escape, hoping I would lead him to you. Only I didn’t know till just now who you were. But now that I do – if he’s been watching us, then so does he.”

Cas cursed and stood, gathering his bag and tossing Dean his own. He wobbled for a moment but steadied with a strength of will Dean admired.

“Then we have less time than I thought. We need to get out of here. And Dean – if the only way out for you is to leave me behind, do it. But pledge me one thing. Kill me. Do not let me fall into Alastair’s hands. Even for the brief time I’d be alive, it would be such horrible torture.”

“Isn’t that a little drastic, Cas? As long as you’re alive, there’s hope of rescue. You just proved that. “

Castiel drew abreast of Dean and stared solemnly into his eyes. Dean’s breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze.

“Alastair is not just a torturer. He’s also a mage of the worst kind. Dean, he won’t kill me. He and those that come after him will… farm me, for parts for the less savory spells. It’s what endangered dragons to start with. And my kind were too arrogant, too sure of their strength to believe a mere human could be a serious threat.”

Castiel looked away, shame flooding his face. “They were wrong. And they paid for it with their lives. If there are any others left, they are hiding and they won’t make that mistake again.”

“Did you?” Dean asked quietly.

“Never,” Castiel said, his gravelly voice low. “It is said that my grandmother’s grandmother was human. Our family line were taught better. When we tried to speak up, none would listen. Instead, we were outcast, labeled traitors to our own race. Ironically, it is this that saved me.”

“Because then the war on dragons happened,” Dean breathed.

Castiel nodded. “It was a human king who declared war on us, in the place Tenebrim now exists, twisting certain stories to portray us in a poor light and inciting knights and princes to hunt us down. My family, already small, were in hiding and were not in any of the strongholds when they fell.”

Dean stared at Cas in horror throughout his grim tale. Swallowing, he said hoarsely, “Well, let’s just make sure never to let you fall into Alastair’s clutches then,” Dean promised. “Now let’s get going before we walk right back into them.”

Dean turned and started walking. Though he’d already been vigilant, he felt even more tense knowing there was so much more at stake than he’d realized. There was a soft sound behind him and he could almost swear he’d heard the words, ‘ _ Thank you, Dean,’ _ following after him.

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

Castiel walked ahead of Dean, his mind befuddled with the conversation from earlier. How much of that was Dean’s reaction? How much of that was from giving a little of his past to someone? How much was the fever muddling things?

Still, Dean had reacted well, all things considered. Maybe too well?

Castiel stopped dead in his tracks. He could hear Dean stumble to a halt behind him. Without turning to look, Castiel asked, “Why? Why are you taking this so well?”

“The fact that you’re a dragon?” Dean resumed his walk, coming to a stop beside Castiel.

“That’s part of what I mean,” Castiel acknowledged, his stomach twisting. “The stories humans tell these days… dragons are always made out to be the bad guys. I’ve had years to learn that humans just don’t know better. But twice now, recently, I’ve had the luck to encounter two that just… don’t seem to care. Why?”

“Your grandmother’s grandmother was human, right?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded slowly, wondering what he could be getting at. “Just as your family had stories, so does mine. Written histories, diaries of a human who mated a dragon – longer ago than I can truly comprehend – a man in my mother’s line. My brother, actually, is named after him, just as our grandfather had been. Samuel had the soul marks. I never knew what that meant. It wasn’t described in his journal, but it’s old. To study it, each child of the next generation copies it over so that the original text is safe and intact.

“So my family is well aware that the war on the dragons was concocted. That not all dragons were to blame for some of the atrocities that occurred in the war. Hell, from what I can tell, atrocities happen no matter which side you’re on,” Dean said bitterly.

“And yet you fight,” Castiel pointed out.

“Because we must. Because if you let the people who would do horrible things do the fighting… if you let them get into power… what kind of realm would we be living in?” Dean asked quietly.

“You are an admirable man,” Castiel said with wonder.

Dean blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m not perfect. Just sayin’…”

“That’s all right, Dean. No one is. All we can do is the best we can and hope it’s enough,” Castiel assured him.

They walked together in silence for a short while, Castiel straining his ears. If Dean was right about Alastair…

“You could be home safe already, if it weren’t for me,” Dean blurted suddenly, breaking Castiel out of his thoughts.

“Well, safe is relative, but yes. If I were not limited to this form, I would not worry about my chances of eluding Alastair’s capture.” Castiel answered the question he did not ask. “And no, I will not leave you.”

“Well, that explains how you know which way to go but didn’t seem overly familiar with the area,” Dean said. “How big do you get? I can’t imagine people didn’t notice you. Unless you only flew at night? I’m assuming you flew. Dragons fly, right?” Dean shook his head. “So, is that what took so long?”

Castiel bit back a smile at Dean’s curiosity. If they made it out of this unscathed, perhaps Dean wouldn’t reject him after all. He hoped they would manage to find a safe place to bond properly, without worry of Alastair.

“I did fly, but not as my true form. My true form is, as you say, quite noticeable. Even at night, I’d block out the stars if any were looking. But it’s one of my skills to shrink my form to something a little more manageable, a little more compact.” Castiel kept walking. “No, what took me so long was figuring out where they took you. We’re not all that far from the border…” He allowed his mouth to quirk a smile, “as the dragon flies.”

Dean barked out a laugh at his small joke and Castiel felt well pleased, the emotion briefly suffusing the feverish pain currently running through him.

He hoped that Dean didn’t make the connection between all of Castiel’s words. Hoped that whatever family histories Dean had studied didn’t go into depth about the soul mark and how it worked. The only chance they had was waiting as long as they could.

If they didn’t properly bond, then Alastair couldn’t hope to keep Castiel alive long enough to keep farming him for spell components. Some of what he would want only worked if they came from a living source. If they  _ did  _ bond, then if he captured Dean or the other way around… they could be used against each other.

Castiel stumbled, his hand reaching out to steady himself against a tree.

“-tiel! Cas! Are you okay?”

Blinking, Castiel came back to himself. Deans worried face swam before him. He found he was on his knees, Dean kneeling beside him and grasping his arms.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Castiel gasped out.

“Like hell you are!” Dean spat.

“Dean, leave me. I’m getting worse and I’ll only slow us down, keep us both within Alastair’s grasp. That is something I want for neither of us.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said adamantly. “It’s the soul mark, right? It’s affecting you more than me. Cas, are you dying?”

Castiel couldn’t hold back his wince at the blunt question. “Only if we don’t… if we don’t allow the bond to properly form.”

“Then why don’t we?”

“No!”

Dean reeled back under his vehemence. “You’d rather die than tie yourself to me?”

“It’s what Alastair is waiting for,” Castiel ground out. “If he knows anything about dragons and soul marks, which it seems he does, then he knows he can’t take either of us before then. To do so would waste the very resource he wants –  _ me _ .”

“But you don’t stand a chance of getting back if you’re like this!” Dean argued. “Your only chance of surviving  _ is  _ to bond with me.”

“Do you know what that entails?” Castiel asked weakly.

Dean hesitated uncertainly.

Castiel sighed. “We don’t have time for that.”

“You don’t have time  _ not  _ to. Cas, I know I’m no expert in these matters. I’m a soldier, not a scholar or a healer, but you don’t look all that great. We have to do  _ some _ thing,” Dean implored.  “It can’t possibly be that hard to do, can it?”

“No, we have to… to hold off as long as we can. The further away we can get, the better.” Castiel huffed out. “ Besides, it’s not that it’s hard, its that… it takes much longer than we have the time for, Dean.” 

“Well, you’re in no condition to walk…” Dean paused. “Wait… exactly how compact can you get?”

“Quite, actually,” Castiel answered. Where was Dean going with this?

“Then how about you do that and I carry you?”

“That… might actually work,” Castiel said, blinking in his surprise. “But what if you’re attacked? Or you get lost?”

“We’ll deal with that as we need to. C’mon, shrink down.”

Castiel nodded. It was, in fact, quite a good idea and he blamed his fever for why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. They could have been much further along by now if he had. He shrugged off his pack with some difficulty, then started tugging on his clothes. Dean’s face turned red, but he helped Castiel to disrobe. Closing his eyes, Castiel pulled together his will and took a breath, then shifted.

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

Dean knew the situation was dire, but it was difficult  _ not  _ to stare at the human form of Castiel as it was revealed to him. Even covered in old scars, he was beautiful. He busied himself with helping Castiel, then gathering up the discarded clothes and shoving them into one of the packs and shouldering it. By that time, Cas was shimmering and shrinking before his eyes.

When he finished, Dean was stunned to see a little dragon about the size of a housecat. It stared up at him with glowing blue eyes that seemed to droop.

“Don’t worry, Cas. I got ya,” Dean said softly. He reached down and picked him up, draping him around his shoulders like a scarf so he could keep his hands free. “You good to hold on up there?”

There was a purr –  _ he even purred!  _ – and Dean took that as a yes and got walking.

It was weird, not having Cas to talk to. No, that was wrong. As quiet as he usually was, it was weird not having him respond back. Dean actually missed his gravelly voice and serious tones.

Currently, Cas was zoning in and out on Dean’s shoulders. The warmth and proximity of the little dragon – what Dean wouldn’t do to see the  _ not  _ so little dragon! – actually seemed to ease both of them.

p>  
“See, isn’t this better?” Dean asked quietly. With Cas right by his face, he didn’t want to talk too loudly and startle him with noise in case he’d dropped off to sleep again. A startled dragon, no matter how small, could probably still do quite a bit of damage with their claws. And if Dean read Castiel right, however his life had started, since the war on the dragons he’d lead a hard one. His reflexes honed in battle and paranoia might get the better of him, despite his own intentions.

Also, talking softly meant Dean’s ears were still trained, as they should be, on their surroundings.

“I guess I can’t really ask you questions like this, not if I want answers, but  _ gods!  _ I have so many. Like, how old you really are and what else can you do? Do you like to fly? I can’t imagine it. I love to ride though. That’s what I’m truly best at, if we’re honest. My brother should take over the keep and the lands, but I’d love to just train the horses. I’d be happy like that. Dad wouldn’t be though. How did you come to be a soldier?”

Dean paused in his questions with a chuckle. “Like I said, lots of questions.” He reached back and scratched at Cas’s head without even thinking about it, chuckling as another purr sounded in his ear. “You’re adorable like this.”

There was a disgruntled huff in his ear and Dean laughed.

They walked in silence for a long while, Cas occasionally nudging his neck and correcting Dean’s path. The reprieve the contact gave them was short lived and soon Dean could feel Cas burning up against his neck, hear his heaving pants and soft moans. His own arm throbbed in sympathy but wasn’t nearly as bad as what he’d gone through prior to this.

He wondered what the difference was.

Cas’s claws dug into his shoulders, just enough to catch his attention. Dean halted and strained his ears and – yes, there it was. Sounded like another patrol. He looked around for cover and then huffed, jumping up to grab onto the lowest branch of a particularly promising tree. He swung himself up onto the branch and then scrambled higher as fast and quietly as he could. Thankfully, Cas’s added weight didn’t throw him off all that much as Dean stretched himself across the branch to peer down through the foliage without being seen.

This became the norm for the next few hours. As soon as one patrol passed through and Dean had finally deemed it safe enough to move, he’d drop out of the tree and walk for maybe a mile before he was stuck looking for another tree again.

After the light patrols of the past few days, it seemed odd that the patrols were suddenly gathered right where  _ they  _ were.

It couldn’t be coincidence.

Alastair  _ must  _ be watching them somehow. But they should have been untraceable by magical means – did that mean Alastair was out here, right now? No, no that didn’t seem likely. He had the pallor of one who didn’t venture outside his walls, perhaps not even much outside his dungeon.

Still, if the patrols were working blindly, then how did they go from a potential sighting once or twice to being surrounded by them? Was it just plain luck?

Dean laid spread out on the branch, Castiel resting along his back. The little dragon shifted and Dean felt claw tipped paws – paws? Feet? Did it matter? – walk along his body until the weight of Castiel disappeared. There was a rustle sound as something disturbed the leaves and then all was quiet except for the patrol literally standing right underneath him.

After a short time, they broke off the impromptu meeting Dean had been straining and failing to hear and walked off.

He stayed where he was. They might not have gone too far and moving too soon would give him and Cas away. The rustling sound came again and then the branch creaked. He turned his head, craning it to see Cas, naked as the day any babe was born, slumped against the tree trunk, breathing hard.

“It’s... it’s only two patrols,” Castiel breathed out, his voice low but rough and scratchy. It sounded like it hurt and Dean winced. Cas carefully cleared his throat and let his breathing calm a little before speaking again.

“They don’t actually know we’re out here - here specifically, I mean - but they are laying out traps and watching the more likely routes. If we keep going on as we’ve been, this is the fastest route back.” Cas lifted his arm to point out past Dean. Dean wasn’t sure but thought that he might have seen it trembling slightly, and that worried him. Cas’s little reconnaissance mission looked like it had really drained him.

Cas dropped his hand and continued. “We’ll have to swing a little west though to get around the small mountains there. Maybe stick to the lower foothills. There could be cover there, and a wall at our backs if we need to defend ourselves. Alastair’s men can’t go much further than that without trespassing on another lord’s lands. He’s ordered it, and they’re headed that way,” Cas said with a chuckle, “but his men are reluctant to do so.”

Cas swayed on the branch and Dean carefully pushed himself up and slid closer to the trunk, grasping Cas’s shoulders. “Hey, I know it’s early, but with all those men out there, I think we should break for the night, find someplace to hole up if we can. If those patrols keep tromping through the woods, we won’t make it far if we have to keep climbing trees every 10 feet. If they’re heading in the same direction we are, then we can simply… let them get past us.”

“And then how will we get past  _ them  _ when the time comes?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. “Climb another tree?” he suggested.

“It’s worked so far,” Cas mused. “It can’t hurt to try. If we attack any of those men, we’ll call too much attention to ourselves.”

“Agreed. And we can take the time to gain our—“  _ your  _ “- strength back.” Dean mentally winced at his almost slip.

Cas’s eyes were already drooping, but he kept blinking them back open, the struggle all too clear. “While it might be a great idea, where will we find cover for the night? I am not a mage, Dean. I cannot hide us.”

“Let’s stay here,” Dean suggested. “You shrink yourself back down to save us space and I’ll sleep with my back against the trunk.”

“That’s incredibly dangerous – “ Cas protested.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Dean couldn’t help but grin. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept in a tree.”

“If you’re sure?” Cas still hesitated and Dean simply nodded as reassuringly as he could, with a wide open smile. Finally, Cas relented and was nearly instantly the mini dragon he’d been all day. Dean picked him up and placed him on his neck and then carefully scooted around to properly sit against the trunk. Their packs he tied together and looped over like a pair of saddlebags and Cas crawled down and settled in his lap.

The light was already poor under the shade of the tree, and it would soon be faded too much for Dean to see, but as Cas closed his eyes, Dean couldn’t help but stare his fill at the dragon. He’d dreamed of dragons when he was younger, partly, no doubt, because of the family stories. But he’d believed as everyone else had, that all of them were gone and he’d never get to see what one truly looked like.

Now he could.

Dean’s eyes traced over every inch and before he even realized it, he’d reached out to touch Cas, petting down along his head and back. The little dragon began to purr once more and Dean couldn’t help the wide smile from breaking his face.

Morning came with stiff limbs. Traveling would be difficult until he could limber up a little. Cas scrambled out from his perch and disappeared briefly, returning to Dean just long enough to catch his attention before hopping down to the ground, his wings flaring out for a gentler landing. Taking that as the sign it was, Dean pulled the bags off the branch and dropped them to the ground below and set about climbing out of the tree.

As soon as he hit the ground, he placed his hands at the small of his back and stretched backwards with a groan, his back popping in several places. He stretched his legs some before dropping to sit and untie the packs, returning them to normal.

“Morning Cas, you ready to go?” Dean said, holding out his hands. Cas hopped up and Dean stood, placing him once more on his shoulders where Cas instantly curled around him, a small furnace to keep Dean warm.

Dean had hopes that whatever was wrong with Cas, it would fade soon. After all, Dean was fine, so Cas would be too, right?

Halfway through the morning, Dean had to concede that maybe not. Cas was running much hotter than he had the day before and was making pained noises, his claws flexing painfully into Dean’s shoulders.

He grimaced and started keeping an eye out for someplace they could hole up in and defend if need be. It seemed like it took forever before Dean stumbled across a cave in a small mound, half hidden by some brush.  He turned abruptly toward it and prayed that it was empty and large enough for them to hide out in for a short while.

Approaching carefully, Dean crouched beside the small entrance and peered inside. He was lucky enough that the light was filtering through the trees just right and he breathed out in relief. He could easily see the other end and it did not look occupied.

He moved inside, setting down both their packs and reaching up to disentangle Cas from around his neck. Carefully placing him on the pack with Cas’s clothes, Dean dug inside the other for the tinder kit.

Quickly, unwilling to leave Cas alone so long when he was so out of it and helpless, Dean gathered wood and set a few traps. Even if Cas woke enough to argue, the stop was necessary to replenish their supplies or they’d starve before they ever reached safety.

Luckily, there were enough supple and strong vines around that Dean was able to cut them down and use them as makeshift ropes for the traps. It wasn’t perfect, but it should net them a rabbit or two.

After setting the traps, Dean went back to the cave and set about making a fire. Whatever they caught, they’d need to cook, and the nights were also getting colder.

A groan sounded beside him, startling Dean. He turned around to find a very naked and human Cas struggling to sit up.

“Dean? Why have we stopped?”

“You can’t keep going like this Cas. We gotta do something about it.”

“No!”

“Cas, why? Don’t you want this?” Dean pointed between them. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so invested in this himself but… he liked Cas, and Cas didn’t deserve this.

“I do. More than anything. I’ve dreamed of it since I was a mere hatchling, but not like this. Not at this cost. Would you force me, Dean, like those who would use me for their own wants and desires?”

“No! I would never force you. Dammit Cas! I’m trying to save your life!” Dean pleaded with Castiel. Even in this short amount of time, Dean had grown to like Castiel. The idea that Cas would toss his own life away in place of Dean’s was painful. Dean didn’t want him to die at all, and he certainly didn’t want it to be on his account. He was just one man. He wasn’t worth any more than the next one.

“As I you and many others. If Alastair gets a hold of me, the spells he could work would end the war by destroying you all. I don’t want to be responsible for that.” Castiel reached out weakly to touch Dean’s cheek. The touch was brief but the sensation caused tingles to run through Dean. Cas’s eyes widened and he yanked his fingers away, wrenching his gaze away as well. “You should leave me here Dean.”

“Yeah, well, you already know I don’t agree. But whatever we decide to do, we ain’t leaving before tomorrow. We need rest, and we need food. I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re about out and neither of us knows how much further we need to go, how many detours we’re gonna have to take.”

Castiel sighed. “Fine.”

Dean knew the argument wasn’t over, but he’d take what he could get.

 


	4. Disastrous Resolve

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

It was late evening by the time something tripped Dean’s traps. They had eaten the last of the browning apples while they waited and the idea of something fresh and much more filling was really appealing to both of them.

Dean appeared back in the entry of the cave, a striking silhouette holding up two rabbits triumphantly. “Hey Cas! Looks like dinner is served!”

Castiel felt the smile tugging at his lips at Dean’s joyous tone. Without a word, he reached for one of the rabbits and a knife and set about helping Dean skin and prep them to cook over the fire. Dean wound up doing most of the work, sadly, but Castiel was glad to be able to help in some way and to enjoy this purely domestic moment.

A moment he wouldn’t have any more chances for if all went as planned.

“Hey, uh, Cas, why are you worse off than me?” Dean asked without looking up from his rabbit. “When Alastair captured me, I was so bad off, they thought I was dying. But now I’m… I’m not good but I’m much better off than you are.”

Castiel shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. I think it may be that my body is… changing. It’s something dragons do sometimes, as needed. I couldn’t stop it if I tried. It’s sapping much of my strength. I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Then again, I had thought I’d reach you faster than I did.”

“So, that’s what you meant when you said you thought you had more time?” Dean did look up this time and Castiel nodded. “Okay, so… how are you… changing?”

“No one knows how the soul marks work, but occasionally when a pairing is made, they are…” Castiel searched for a delicate way to phrase it. Humans found offense in the strangest of things, at times. “physically incompatible with each other.”

Dean looked him up and down and a warmth different then Castiel’s fever rushed through him. “I dunno, Cas. I like the way you look. I know plenty of ways we can be compatible.” Dean blinked and the heated gazed turned into one of wariness. “Wait, does that mean… you’re gonna turn into a woman? Like, breasts and everything?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not quite. Outwardly I will remain the same as I am. But there are some changes happening internally which will make it possible for us to actually have children.”

Not that Castiel would ever get the chance to have any.

“Seriously?” Dean looked a little uneasy but mostly curious. “How does that work anyway? A human dragon mating – how do the kids happen? That was never explained by my ancestor.”

“Depends on who’s bearing the child. If it’s the human, they come the way humans do and learn to shift later. Some never do. If it’s the dragon, we nest and lay eggs. The young will emerge as dragons and they’re almost always guaranteed to learn how to shift later.”

“An egg?” Dean wondered and shook his head. “Well, that’d be… something.”

“Does that disturb you?” Castiel asked. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered when there was no future for them. When he had to do what he planned to keep at least one of them safe. But he couldn’t help the question.

Dean’s hands paused and he looked at Castiel thoughtfully before shrugging and going back to his work. “It’s different and might take a little getting used to but I can’t say that it disturbs me.”

Castiel relaxed and hummed, the tune happier than it had any right being.

He wanted to stay with Dean so badly. Didn’t want to be alone anymore and it seemed the soul mark had chosen – however it did what it did – correctly. Dean was not only good looking but open minded, compassionate and so much more. A tightness gripped his chest, making it hard to breathe and his resolve wavered.

Dean, thankfully, simply took his silence and everything else as symptoms of holding back the bond.

Light had faded by the time they had washed up as best they could from their messy task and eaten their rabbits. Dean got Castiel tucked in as comfortably as he could by the fire, using the clothes he’d not put back on as both pillow and a blanket. Dean briefly left him alone once more to check on his traps again. They’d had very little left over from the two rabbits to keep them traveling, though Castiel had only picked at his.

He found he couldn’t eat because of how ill the mark was making him and because of the anxiety of his own thoughts and plans. But he forced himself to eat anyway. He knew he needed the strength and the satisfaction and relief on Dean’s face had also been worth it.

When Dean returned, lucky once more, Castiel made to sit up and offer his help but Dean shook his head. “No, lay back down and get some rest, Cas.”

“Rest isn’t going to make me better Dean. We both know it. Let me help when and where I can.”  _ Let me spend the last minutes I can with you… _

Dean hesitated but finally nodded and the two of them sat together in a most companionable silence, their shoulders occasionally brushing. What Castiel wouldn’t give to have more than those brief touches. His hands, already moving slowly, stuttered to a stop as he stared at Dean longingly. Dean was humming under his breath as his own hands moved with sure and steady movements, and the firelight flickered against his skin pleasingly, tantalizing Castiel with glimpses of green and gold eyes, the freckles dusting over his cheeks, the scruff that had grown along his jaw.

Castiel was so lost in gazing at Dean that he barely noticed when Dean took Castiel’s rabbit with a small smile or when Dean finished his task and cleaned his hands. It was when Dean turned to take Castiel’s hands in his, gently wiping away what little blood stained his hands, that Castiel blinked.

Dean stared back at him, his hands still holding Castiel’s and Castiel drew in a sharp breath. For one moment – just one moment – Castiel was weak, giving in to the craving that had only grown stronger with every second spent in Dean’s presence.

It was easy to cross the scant distance between them, too easy, and their lips met. Castiel’s eyes slid closed as the feeling of Dean’s lips moving against his own caused a fluttering in his chest, a tingle cascading over him. He gasped and the kiss deepened. Someone groaned – he thought it was him – and fingers threaded in his hair as their tongues touched.

Gods, this feeling!

He whimpered and disentangled his fingers from Dean’s hair –  _ when had  _ **_that_ ** _ happened? _ – reluctantly breaking the kiss and pulling away as he panted.

Dean stared after him dazedly, his hands pulling free from Castiel’s hair and dropping down to grasp at his bare shoulders.

It was tempting, all too tempting to just let go and do what needed to be done – what they both desperately wanted, e ven though Castiel already knew how impossible that would be behind enemy lines. It was also hard to resist the pull to let the attraction between Dean and himself happen, to allow them both this much before...

“Gods, that was… that was intense! I’ve never felt like that before…” Dean gulped. His hands shifted and one of them left Castiel’s shoulder to cup his jaw. His eyes closed again as he nuzzled into the comforting touch.

But this couldn’t happen. Alastair was out there and Castiel could not allow their bond to be consummated, not if he were to keep Dean safe. Steeling himself, Castiel opened his eyes, grasped Deans wrist and pulled it away. He shifted back, putting distance between them.

“Cas – “ Dean implored.

Refusing to look at Dean, at the all too tempting picture the firelight painted, Castiel shuffled back to the makeshift bed. “We can’t, Dean. I’ve explained it already.”

There was a resigned sigh from behind him as Dean spoke quietly. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Trust me, neither do I,” Castiel agreed. “I wish heartily that circumstances were different. I wish we got the future the stories promised us. I just don’t see how that will happen.”

“We’ll find a way, Cas,” Dean promised.

Castiel didn’t answer, for what could he say? They’d never get that chance. Either they completed the bond and Alastair tore them apart, or they didn’t and Cas would die.

The least he could do was make the inevitable end have a better outcome for Dean.

He just needed to wait till Dean fell asleep and then Castiel would enact his plan.

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

When Dean woke up, it was with the absolute certainty that something was wrong. One quick glance around the small cave told him he was right.

Cas was gone.

Dean scrambled to his feet and ducked outside for a quick look. Maybe Cas had simply gotten up to answer a call of nature? And sick as he’d been, what if he’d collapsed? Or gotten disoriented? What if he needed help?

Already knowing it was hopeless didn’t make Dean hope any less. Instead, he stumbled about the woods for over half the morning before he had to concede that Cas was gone.

He’d left.

He’d just left Dean behind enemy lines in an attempt to save Dean’s life.

Dean’s lips tightened with resolve. Well, now Cas’s life was in danger. He returned to the cave and packed their things. Cas had left his clothes and pack behind. Possibly because as a dragon the clothes were unnecessary and partly because it would buy him some time, perhaps thinking that Dean would not realize right away that he was gone and not coming back.

Dean’s hands stilled when something caught in the light.

Cas had left the necklace.

Dean’s heart stuttered. Without the necklace, Alastair had a better chance of finding Cas, if he knew what he was looking for. And Dean couldn’t believe he didn’t. Not after the things he’d said.

He slowly bent down to pick it up, letting the chain slide through his grasp before clenching his fist around it and bringing it to a stop. Cas probably thought he was returning an heirloom to Dean’s family, didn’t want to deprive them of something that had meaning to them, but the thought that he’d just… tossed it away… tossed away the protections it granted the wearer…

He slipped the chain over his neck and the locket _tinked_ against the one already laying warmed against his skin.

_ Stupid, noble, self-sacrificing… _

No. Dean was going to find him. It could be too late if he did what Cas wanted and returned to the company. Even going for help would be pointless.

He finished stuffing Cas’s clothes and the leftover meat into the bags, first wrapping the meat in some large leaves he’d found nearby. He kicked out the remains of the fire, shouldered the packs and strapped on Cas’s blade. It was awkward, but it would be better to have the spare should he find Cas.

Stepping out of the cave, he stood blinking in the midday sun.

Which direction would he have gone in? Cas wouldn’t want to stay in Azazel’s territory because then the worst could happen to him. But he would also want to draw attention away from Dean, and behind him was a gentle slope that abruptly became a sheer rock face.

A wave of dizziness flashed through Dean and when it passed, he was resolutely turned in another direction. How he knew it was the way Cas went, he didn’t know, but it was as good a direction as any, seeing as he’d found no clues when scouring the nearby woods anyway.

Dean started on his way, but whatever good luck had been watching out for them weather wise so far abruptly broke as evening approached. The sky opened up and Dean couldn’t see more than 2 feet in front of his face. He struggled forward anyway until the sky became sheets and Dean was forced to take shelter.

The only problem now was finding that shelter. The ground beneath him grew slippery as he searched and Dean had to fight for his footing. He stumbled and fell to his knees more than once before he found something. But he was already soaked and so was any potential firewood. The only point in taking shelter was in not getting irrevocably lost.

He feared he was too late for that.

Sullenly, he staggered into the lee of a hill with an outcropping that held off the worst of the rain. It wasn’t as cozy as the little cave he’d had earlier that day, but it would do.

As soon as Dean was off his feet, he sagged against the rock. His left ankle was throbbing more painfully than the mark on his arm and so was his right knee. That last fall had done more damage than he’d thought or could afford.

This would make rescuing Cas even harder.

Were the gods out to get him?

*** &*&*& *&*&*&***

Voices and the muted jingle of horse tack woke him and Dean froze, glad now that he hadn’t been able to light a fire. The light and the smoke both would have been a dead giveaway for his position. As it was, he had to hope that the shadows of the overhang would hide him if he kept very still. It was too late, injured as his legs were, to get away quietly.

He toyed with the lockets that both lay against his chest. He could use the healing spells inside, but the same reasoning applied now that had then - save them for a worst case scenario. Dean didn’t want to waste them now if he could help it. 

As long as they didn’t come looking under the overhang directly, he’d be fine. 

Dean tucked the lockets away again, though his hand hovered over the breast of his shirt. He held his breath as the voices got closer. When they did, he frowned. That sounded like…

For one wild second, he thought maybe Cas had come back. But Cas would be alone, not talking, and as familiar as the first voice was, it sounded nothing like the gravelly tones he had become accustomed to from Cas.

The voices moved closer again and Dean’s eyes widened.

Was that  _ Bobby? _

Caution thrown to the wind, Dean leveraged himself up and limped out to the edge of the overhang and peered out. The rain had slowed to a much more sedate drizzle, thank god, and there… yes, it _ was  _ Bobby! What in god’s name was the old coot  _ doing  _ out here? And who was that with him?

Dean watched for another minute or two to make sure the two of them were alone and that neither of them seemed to be in distress. Or that the stranger had captured Bobby. But no, the two seemed amicable enough that Dean was relieved.

Risking it, Dean shouted, “Bobby!”

Both men and their horses froze before turning towards his voice.

“Dean!” Bobby grinned as he shouted back. He nudged his horse forward again while leading another, all black and… Wait, was that  _ Dean’s  _ horse, Impala? Bobby and the stranger – who also led a horse - pulled abreast of Dean quickly. Bobby wasted no time dismounting and wrapping him in a tight hug. “We thought we’d lost ya, boy.”

“Bobby, I don’t understand – how’d you find me? I’m literally in the middle of nowhere. I’m – I’m not even sure where I am…” Dean returned the hug, still stunned by Bobby’s appearance.

“About a day and a half from the border, as the horse rides,” the stranger said, leaning forward on his horse, but remaining mounted. Dean blinked and looked back at his uncle.

“What? You thought yer dad would only send out one search party, no matter how highly vaunted this Castiel fella is?” Bobby’s raised brow made Dean flush. Of course his dad would have sent out more people to find Dean. He just wasn’t sure he was worth all that effort, as grateful as he was.

“Speaking of dear old Cassie, where  _ is  _ he?” the stranger interrupted once more.

“I don’t know. He took off yesterday – gods, Bobby, but he’s stubborn as hell and thinks it’ll keep me safe if we separate because…” Dean trailed off, biting his lip and looking at the stranger who stared intently at Dean. If it were just Bobby, he’d have no problem sharing Cas’s secret. He knew his uncle would take it to his grave.

But this guy…?

This guy was breaking out in a grin. “Name’s Balthazar. And I volunteered to come along as soon as I heard there would be another rescue attempt. I had a feeling Cassie might have bit off a little more than he could chew.” Balthazar’s grin dropped abruptly and Dean found himself pinned with suddenly serious eyes. “How bad is he?”

Dean’s breath caught and Bobby gave them both sharp looks. “Why do I feel like I’m missin’ something here?”

“He’s pretty bad off. And we think…” Dean rubbed at his arm, hidden under the shirt. “We think Alastair knows what he is.”

“Have you -?” Balthazar gestured at Dean’s arm.

Shaking his head, Dean answered. “No. Cas wouldn’t let us. Said it would put us both in more danger from Alastair if we did. He figures this way – if I’m not captured again –” Dean’s mouth twisted into a grimace, “I’ll live and he’ll be useless to Alastair.”

Balthazar swore. “He figures the unfinished bond’ll kill him before Alastair can use him up.”

“We gotta save him!” Dean insisted.

“Hold yer horses! You two still ain’t said everything, I’m thinkin’. Bond? Dean, what’s going on?” Bobby asked gruffly.

Dean sighed and slid his sleeve up, showing the soul mark. He knew Bobby would understand what it was, what it meant. Bobby was family and knew the histories as well as Dean did.

“Cas is a dragon. Far as we know, last of his kind. We were both hit with this the day I was taken. He’s been racing against time to rescue me ever since. And Alastair – he recognized it when he came to torture me for information. He seemed… happy.” Dean shuddered and looked pleadingly at Bobby. “Bobby, we can’t let him get his hands on Cas. Not even just for his sake or mine, but for everyone else’s! He might die before they can get too much outta him, but that doesn’t mean they can’t get anything! And if they do -”

“If they do, sir, this war is over. Dragon parts can be used for all manner of things, and in the hands of an unscrupulous and sadistic mage as Alastair, even without Azazel’s command, I fear for all of us,” Balthazar put in.

“All right, all right. You had me at we had to rescue him. I know what a dragon is, and I know the truth about the dragon war. It wasn’t pretty, I tell you that. I well know how badly things can go. And Castiel put himself in harm’s way for Dean, least we can do is try to get him back,” Bobby said.

Nearly sinking to the ground in relief, Dean closed his eyes and took a moment to realize he wasn’t alone in this. They could do it. “All right. Where do we start?”

Bobby and Balthazar squinted at him and Balthazar –  _ still _ on his horse – leaned over. “Which direction were  _ you  _ headed in?”

“Well, I got no good reason for one over the other… but that one felt right,” Dean said, pointing off to his right, past the cliff and overhang.

“Then that’s the way we’re going,” Bobby asserted. “Now get yer ass on the horse. We’re wastin’ daylight.”

“Hey girl, you ready to go on an adventure?” Dean cooed, happy to see his beloved horse was no worse the wear for the battle the other day, when he’d lost his seat. How long ago had it been? A week? Maybe not even… he’d lost all track. She snuffled his hand and he laughed, patting her nose briefly. “I’m not mad at you for leaving me behind either, baby. I’m glad you got outta there safe.”

He gave her one last pat and climbed aboard, swinging his legs stiffly over - his knee and ankle throbbing so badly he was glad to get off them -  and landing himself in the saddle, relaxing for the first time in days. Feeling a little more grounded, Dean turned to Bobby and Balthazar, his reins in hand.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” he said with more confidence than he felt. Pointing Impala in what  _ hoped  _ was the right direction, he spurred her forward, having her trot along the the slope of rock that couldn’t make up its’ mind on whether it was a small hill or a mountain. Bobby and Balthazar quickly followed suit.

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

Castiel struggled forward, grateful to be on four legs instead of two. Balance was a little easier to maintain that way. Flying, however, second nature to him as it usually was, was beyond his ability at the moment. His wings felt too heavy, too cumbersome too maneuver. Certainly, he wasn’t feeling coordinated enough to even try.

The cramps that had started the day before had become absolutely excruciating, contributing to the fever haze that had hold of Castiel. He could feel his organs moving, his bones shifting -

No, that was just his imagination. He knew  _ what  _ the cramps and his aching limbs portended, but he couldn't actually  _ feel _ those things except for the pain they caused. And gods, it was painful. He could only thank whatever deities still paying him any attention for the fact that this was a stage of the bond that Dean did  _ not  _ have to go through personally. 

They'd both been hit with the initial searing pain of the soul mark. They both suffered nausea and headaches until they could be together, but then the changes started and while Dean had gotten better, Cas had fared worse. Legend had it, that the sorts of things Cas was enduring could be eased by the   
presence of his soul mate.

But he couldn’t allow himself that.

Picking a direction had been hard. He sure as hell didn’t want to just hand himself over to Alastair but he   
couldn’t go the same direction as Dean either, not if he was to keep Dean safe.

It had been wrenching to remove himself from Dean’s side. Castiel couldn’t keep his mind from returning over and over to that single moment in the cave, that resolve that had him turning away and leaving. Castiel had stared at the sleeping form of his soul mate, trying to burn Dean’s face into his mind. Something he could bring out during his worst or weakest moments to give him the strength to keep going.

If only he were strong enough to simply end Alastair, to remove the threat to him and Dean once and for all,but the time he’d have been able to even  _ try  _ that was long past.

There was nothing he could do  now that he was like this .

It wasn’t fair. The one thing he’d dreamed about since he was a hatchling himself. The one thing he’d thought lost to him forever.

It was so hard. The mark burned, the fever raged, trying to force him  to turn back and be with Dean .

He wanted this,  wanted a life with Dean , so damn much.

But there was no way he could have it.  In his current condition, he and Dean would never make their escape, and without that, completing the bond was impossible. At least this way, he could keep Dean safe.

So he kept moving. He had no other destination in mind other than ‘away’. Away from Dean. Away from Alastair. So he paid no attention to where he was going otherwise.

What did it matter?

He just needed to find a place far enough away that he could safely crawl inside and let the end come.

In all his life, in all his travels, this was not the way Castiel had thought he’d go.

In battle, sure.

Not from this.

His own people would have been disgusted by this death. Giving up was considered the second most dishonorable way to die. Betraying their kind was the first.

No. he wasn’t giving up. Giving up would have been giving Dean what they both truly wanted. He was saving lives this way and he refused to feel shame for it.

_ You hear that?  _ Castiel threw up to his ancestors in mock prayer.  _ This is a battle and I choose how I fight. This is the tactic that saves lives. I refuse to feel ashamed for this. I’m doing this for them – for  _ **_him._ **

There was no answer. There never was. Not that Castiel was much the praying kind. He’d lost that part of himself in the dragon war.

Castiel stumbled and hit the ground exhausted. Taking heaving breaths, he pushed himself back up – and the sky opened up.

Even through the thick trees, the rain was merciless, battering his limp and weakened body. His sight was impaired but he didn’t care where he was going anyway. So he trudged on, mud caking his body as he went.

He hit a swollen river and struggled to remember what river it was and where he was in relation to other places. He didn’t want to turn and walk along the bank. Would it be better to attempt a crossing in the unusually turbulent waters?

Castiel didn’t let indecision sway him long. He hit the water, which was blessedly cool when he submerged. The rain had helped relieve the heat of his fever – though he knew getting too cold would be bad for him – but the river was so much more. And it would hide his tracks better. He was probably leaving way too many traces of his passage with every step he took in the mud.

It took all his strength to keep afloat in the rough waters, so Castiel didn’t even attempt to fight his way upstream. He would only stay in the water short time, he figured. Just long enough that no one would know where he’d come back out.

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

Dean slumped over in the saddle, overcome with a brief wave of dizziness. His arm flared hot and he gasped. Blinking, Dean found they’d come to a halt.

“Bobby – why’d we stop?”

“Boy, you do not look good. I don’t think coming with us is a good idea.”

“No, it’s  _ my _ turn to rescue him. He promised and I’m gonna do it,” Dean mumbled out, remembering the conversation from… was it only a few days before? How right Cas had been, that Dean would get his chance to save him next. Maybe it had been a flippant reply, just to stop Dean’s grousing, but suddenly it was all that Dean could think of.

It was his turn to save Cas. He  _ wanted  _ to save Cas. Hell, he  _ needed  _ to save Cas.

Balthazar and Bobby stared at Dean and Dean flushed.

“Look, if I’m like this, then Cas has to be doing worse. We’re bound to catch up to him soon. He can’t keep going like this.” The wave passed and Dean straightened. “See? I’m fine now. I can keep going.”

Balthazar and Bobby exchanged skeptical looks but they got moving again. Dean signed in relief, but it was short lived. A sense of dread had settled over him and he was suddenly certain they were too late.

Far from letting up, the rain continued to pound down around them, but at least Dean’s desperation to continue was now supported by – strangely enough – Balthazar.

“You can say that I know a little about the bond. You and Cas may not have made it official, but the bond is doing everything it can to get you together. If you feel he went that way, then he probably did.”

“Yer sayin’ we need to follow Dean’s feelings?” Bobby grumbled. “This better work, or we’ll be wandering around lost before we know it.”

“Cheer up, Bobby,” Balthazar answered from his own horse with a cheeky grin.

Dean smiled. Balthazar was obviously getting on Bobby’s nerves and he was too keen eyed to have not noticed that. Dean figured it was on purpose.

“Damn soldier’s been all sorts of chatty and cheerful the whole way. He’s gonna drive me to drink,” Bobby muttered, the words clearly meant only for Dean’s ears.

“Too late, old man, judging from the state of your flask.” Balthazar winked and pulled ahead. The exchange had Dean laughing for the first time since Cas had taken off. Maybe even since before Cas started showing how bad off he was.

“How did you two  _ not  _ kill each other on the trip?” Dean asked.

“Well, it helped that it was a fairly short one, by horseback. Only took us a day and a half to find you. And, I could tell he really was worried, no matter how he covers it. When John and I started discussing another rescue attempt about five days after you were taken, Balthazar showed up in his captain’s tent, worried as hell.”

“How’d that go?”

“’bout as you’d expect. John was too busy trying to make a plan while Anna insisted on giving Castiel more time. Then Balthazar burst in, shoving aside the guards who thought it was some sort of attempt on John or Anna’s lives – or both - shouting about Cas dying.”

“Whoa.” Dean blinked, staring at Balthazar’s back and rethinking his opinion of him a little more favorably. Not that he’d had much chance to form one yet, but it was definitely a point in his favor.

“Yeah. It was pandemonium after that, boy, with John being smug on the one hand that he was right and demanding how Balthazar knew on the other. Anna didn’t know what to say, spluttering incoherently for a good five minutes before pulling herself together and demanding the same thing John wanted – answers,” Bobby explained. “About the only thing we knew for sure was that Castiel was still alive when he crossed the battlefield into Tenebrim territory. He rescued a scout called Charlie – turned out to be one of the gals from Piercing Arrows –”

“Oh, led by Dorothy Baum, right?”

“Aye that’s the one. Anyhow, she brought word back to us of his intentions. According to when she said he’d found her, he’d made pretty good time. Guess I know why, now.”

“How’d he convince  _ anyone _ without letting slip what Cas was?”

“Y’know, I’m not altogether sure,” Bobby said slowly. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t think he did. That’s why there’s only two of us. He and I both volunteered – I could see he truly believed it and Anna could vouch for his skill as a soldier and his knowledge of Castiel, being his partner and all – “

Dean felt his chest tighten at the mention of Cas and Balthazar as partners, even though he  _ knew  _ it wasn’t like that, and even if it were, it was before they’d even known each other. He had no right to get jealous in any way

He couldn’t help it though. He was, even if just a little.

“ – so when I left, John was still imploring Anna do a proper search party, while she argued that she couldn’t continue to waste resources trying to locate one man. I can tell you, that didn’t go over very well.”

Dean nodded. “Well, looks like your gamble is paying off.”

“Looks like.”

They fell silent for a while, Dean occasionally calling ahead to Balthazar to adjust his path. He only hoped the soldier was right because Dean had no idea what he was feeling right now other than a foreboding dread.

Eventually, the rain let up and they got their first sign that they were going the right way. Prints Dean had never seen in his lifetime were clearly outlined in the mud. Against Bobby’s protests, Dean slid down off his horse to examine the prints. He had seen Cas’s dragon form when it was small and, if was not mistaken, these prints were his.

He touched one of them and stared along the path the tracks made. What he saw made him pale.

Balthazar knelt beside him. “These Cas’s?”

Dean nodded. Of course, Bobby and Balthazar wouldn’t know. “Yeah, I think so.”

Balthazar swore. “He’s not doing very well.”

Dean stared out at the jagged path, how it looped back and staggered to one side or another. At the inconsistencies of individual prints as a foot dragged here or stuttered there. He swallowed and hoped they could find Castiel in time.

Standing, Dean paced along Cas’s shaky steps, trying to make sense of them and pinpoint a solid direction. Finally, he focused on a spot where Cas had obviously doubled back –  _ was it for a reason or was he that out of it that he had no idea where he was going?  _ Dean felt sick at the thought – and climbed back up in the saddle, pushing them on once more.

Afternoon was giving way to evening and they’d only gone perhaps another ten miles when Dean’s breath caught.

The prints stopped. Not because Cas was there, or the ground had turned rocky, but because there were others on top, marring the tracks of his passing. Dean dismounted, scouring the area to see if there could be something he’d missed that would give him hope of Cas’s escape.

But there was nothing.

Dean fell to his knees, letting out a small gasp of despair before he could stop it. The throbbing in his arm seemed to increase as he gripped his hair. “Gods, we're too late. The bastard has him.”

Bobby clapped him on the shoulder and helped him to stand. “Then we'll just have to take 'em back, ain't that right boy?”

*** &*&*& CASTIEL *&*&*&***

Castiel staggered on, weak limbed and feverish. His head and tail drooping low. Where was he going? What had been his objective again? There was something he was supposed to be doing, but he was so tired and he just couldn’t think straight anymore.

His steps dragged and when he found a section of ground that didn’t try impede his movements, he turned towards the minuscule relief it provided.

He didn’t see the nets or the swords. He didn’t hear the harsh voices or the jangling of bits, the creaking of leather armor.

Not until it was too late.

Castiel reared back clumsily, but his feet were already snared! It didn’t stop him from snapping his jaws at the riders and roaring loudly.

There was shouting and a confusing jumble of moving figures. Castiel was dizzy with his fever, shaky and weak from it, and it showed in his efforts. He could hear derisive laughter and he felt shamed.

There was a better way to fight, if he could just remember it.

Something blew into his face and he sneezed at the fine powder that reached into his nose, his mouth, dusted his eyes.

He blinked to clear his eyes, then blinked again, each blink slower than the last.

_ Need… to… fight back… _ he thought muzzily before collapsing bonelessly to the ground with a heavy thud. He struggled to open his eyes once more and failed, slipping into darkness.

 


	5. Wreaking Havoc

*** &*&*&CASTIEL*&*&*&***

Awareness came to Castiel in bits and pieces and he desperately latched on to them, trying to break the surface into consciousness again.

_ Drugged. _

He came to with a gasp, only to find himself strapped down to a rack, fully human and absolutely naked.

_ I was drugged. _ He realized with a sinking feeling. Only magic - near impossible to work on a dragon - or dragonsbane – which was just rare all around – could do what had been done to him. Footsteps behind him made him realize he wasn’t alone but when he tried to look, Castiel found he couldn’t turn to see. The straps held him too tightly.

“Awake, finally, hmm…?” An eerie, nasally voice spoke. It grated over Castiel, causing him to shiver. There was something about him… something that made Castiel’s skin crawl.

“If you’re wondering how you’ve shifted, I have my ways,” the voice gloated.

_ Yes. It’s called dragonsbane,  _ Castiel thought angrily _. It’s not that much of a secret. Or… it wasn’t, once. Maybe these days it is? How long had dragons been gone from the world? _ It’d been a while. A human lifetime at least. Or… was it more than that? Castiel mentally shook himself. There were more important things to deal with then letting his mind wander down tangents.

“Ahhh… I can’t believe you’re here, at last. The things I plan to do to you… mmmmm…” the nasally voice sounded…  _ oh that’s disgusting,  _ Castiel thought, trying to refrain from shuddering. He didn’t want to give his captor anything to use against him.

His body wasn’t as cooperative as his mind, however, and Castiel shuddered anyway, triggering a cough. His skin was sweating from the fever. It hadn’t relented, but strangely, the drug induced sleep had given him a small reprieve, allowed him to think a little more clearly.

_ Not a method I’d recommend, _ Castiel thought wryly.

Alastair circled Castiel gleefully as Castiel watched. The scent was all wrong. Even for a mage of such dubious methods, it was so  _ very  _ wrong. It was something he hadn’t smelled in so long he almost missed it.

“How…I don’t understand,” Castiel gasped out.

“Castiel… My, my, my. I can’t believe I have you here.” Alastair repeated. He grinned and the evilness behind it made Castiel shake. “Imagine my surprise when Dean was captured and I saw the Soul Mark. I, too, could not believe what I saw. There I was, prepared to torture him for anything he could give me – and I must admit, for the pure pleasure it would bring me – and then I found that  _ thing _ twisting around his arm. He had a soul mate and it wasn’t me? It was impossible...”

Alastair stopped, leering down at where Castiel was trapped. “But then I realized what good luck this was. What an opportunity I had been given. Discovering that I wasn’t nearly as alone as I thought… the possibilities of what I could do were now  _ endless.” _

“You can’t be…” But oh, it made so much more sense. A dark blood mage, rumors of a life lived longer than any human should… the accusations that Alastair had caused the war… How had Castiel  _ not  _ suspected before this?

“But I am. I’m a dragon, too,” Alastair said. “Admittedly, I’m stuck in this… despicable form and do you know how that felt? How I was treated as lesser? They kicked me out. I wasn’t a  _ true  _ dragon so what good was I? And they paid for that. Oh, how they paid.”

“Was it you?” Castiel choked. “You who orchestrated the death of my kin, of… of… my people?”

“Our people,” Alastair corrected. Then his voice dropped and he sneered. “It was.”

Castiel lunged forward with a growl, only to be yanked back by the leather straps binding him to the table.

“Oh, no, no, no, no…” Alastair laughed and the sound grated along Castiel’s nerves unpleasantly. “I know well how to keep one such as you in my power. You could say… I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The taunt only enraged and sickened Castiel further. There had to be a way out of Alastair’s power, out of his grasp.

“It won’t work, you know,” Castiel growled out. “You can’t keep me.”

“You mean this?” Alastair slid the point of his knife along Castiel’s arm, dragging through the mark and leaving behind a thin trail of blood. “I know. You  _ are _ a stubborn one. But don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I have people out looking for Dean as we speak, and just in case they fail…” Alastair shrugged and the blade bit deeper into Castiel’s skin. “I plan to start harvesting  _ all  _ the parts I can while I can.”

“Starting with your blood.” He leaned closer. “I know how to drain you to just before the point of no return. And I will do it again and again and  _ again,  _ till you can’t even remember who you are anymore. And you’ll hurt while I do. I’ll make sure of it.”

Castiel hadn’t thought Alastair could get any creepier, but oh, he was  _ so wrong.  _ Alastair’s voice raked over Castiel harshly, conjuring up horrible images, and he could not hold back from shuddering further.. 

“There’s so much to harvest before it’s too late. The bleeding’s the easy part, the most boring as well, but don’t worry… I know how to get  _ creative.  _ You’re such a brilliant canvas to work with. Then when you’re too weak to resist, I'll allow you to shift and start harvesting these other bits and bobs I’ve wanted to get my hands on for ages...”

A banging on the door to Alastair’s work room made his knife pause and caused him to roll his eyes to the ceiling, annoyance written in every bit of the tension Castiel could see.

Castiel held back the sigh of relief at the respite he was getting from Alastair’s handiwork, just as much as he’d been holding back the screams Alastair seemed so intent on producing. The man shaped dragon might want Castiel for parts, but he truly enjoyed the pain it caused to harvest them.

The banging came again and Alastair growled, turned and slammed the knife onto the table. He walked over to the door and ripped it open.

A soldier, in official Tenebrim livery - which meant someone directly from Azazel himself - stood on the other side, his fist raised to bang once more. He was accompanied by someone else, another noble or some sort of aide, Castiel had no idea. The soldier, his task accomplished, turned on his heel and departed.

“What do you want?!” Alastair shouted. “Can’t you see I’m busy? What have I told you people about bothering me when I’m working?”

“Apologies, Lord Alastair, but the King is demanding results. He knows about the dragon you’ve captured and wants to know why you haven’t yet made the spells you’ve promised him.”

Ignoring the man, Alastair tossed him into a wall with a negligent flip of his hand. There was a sickening crack of bone on stone, the man seeming to hover for a second before sliding down the wall, leaving a smear of red behind him.

Castiel was quite certain the man was dead.

“All in good time. I have more important things to finish here. A ritual to complete. One I thought I’d never be able to finish. I only needed one more dragon… one more!” Alastair growled as he stalked back over to the scarred and dented wooden table, filled with sharp and bloody instruments. Some of that blood was Castiel’s.

“One more dragon was all I needed,” he hissed again. “But what do you know – the war wiped ‘em all out faster than I could ever have imagined – leaving me short of my task. And now that I have you in my grasp, I’m not letting this chance escape!”

He chose a knife, something particularly wicked looking and he turned back to face Castiel with a nasty, triumphant grin, insanity glittering in his eyes. “And you have the grand honor of taking me there.” He pointed the knife at Castiel, the grin only getting wider. “And when I’ve finally become what I’ve always been meant to be, then I take out Azazel for daring to  _ think  _ he could command me to his bidding.”

*** &*&*& DEAN *&*&*&***

It had taken all day to track Cas down and then back here, but here they were. Dean stared up at the keep. It looked night impenetrable and his heart sank though his resolve didn’t waver.

“It’s not gonna be as easy for us to get inside as it was for your dragon, I’d wager,” Bobby said quietly.

Balthazar cracked his knuckles. “That’s where I come in. I can’t maintain it long but I can make it look like we belong and encourage people not to actually look at us. But we’ll have to be quick about it.”

“So, what, are you a dragon too?” Bobby asked Balthazar, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed over his chest.

“No. What I’m proposing to do is a glamour. I’m Fae,” Balthazar said haughtily, sitting ramrod straight in his saddle, rigid and still.

“Not like any Fae  _ I’ve  _ ever heard tale about,” Bobby grumped.

Dean was staring to worry he’d have to step between them. There were more important things to worry about just now. But before he could take action, Balthazar deflated under Bobby’s glare, slumping down into his saddle with a sigh.

“Partially Fae. Diluted by many generations of breeding with humans. Not enough to be claimed by them, just enough to get me in trouble.”

_ Well, that explains a few things _ , Dean thought. Pushing that aside, Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “Okay. What do we need to do to make this work?”

“The fewer people I need to cover with glamour, the longer I can hold it,” Balthazar said apologetically. Bobby grudgingly agreed. Someone needed to stay back and secure the horses anyway while Balthazar and Dean snuck in.

Despite the glamour, Dean was hard-pressed not to flinch and draw his sword every time someone came close.

How was Cas faring at Alastair’s hands? It made Dean shiver to think what that sadistic man could be doing to Cas. How long had Alastair had Cas at his mercy? Dean knew he was doing exactly what Cas  _ didn’t want _ him doing – putting himself anywhere near Alastair - but there was no way Dean could leave Cas behind.

“How’s the ankle?” Balthazar asked quietly.

“It’s fine. I wrapped it up tight. You don’t have to worry about me.” Dean glanced over and noticed a bead of sweat rolling down Balthazar’s face. “How about you? You gonna be able to maintain this?”

“Pshaw, of course,” Balthazar waved off his concern and Dean shook his head.

“If you say so,” Dean said dubiously. “This way.”

On the bright side, Dean’s escape made it possible to find their way down to Cas in an expedited manner. Still in his stolen clothes – and who knew what type of glamour Balthazar had wrapped them in – no one even thought to question their presence, even as they opened the door that led to the dungeon.

Closing it firmly behind them, they slipped down the stairs, ears straining for any indication of what may lay up ahead.

The stairs exited in the same chamber Dean recalled from the last time he was here, but the guard was doubled.

Well, of course it was, Dean conceded. Alastair’s got the rarest of the rare and there was already a ‘successful’ escape attempt. He wouldn’t’ dare risk a repeat. Even if Dean was still certain Alastair had ‘let them’ escape the first time.

The guards were looking at Dean and Balthazar suspiciously, and Dean was wondering if Balthazar's glamour had stopped, when a cry from further down the hall drew their attention.

_ Oh gods, was that Cas? _ It took everything he had in him not to leap forward. It would only cause complications if he did. As he took hold of himself, there was uneasy mumbling among the rest of the guards. One of them stepped forward – must be the captain, Dean thought – effectively blocking Dean and Balthazar from coming in any further.

“Who are you?”

“We uh, Lord Alastair requested our presence, to assist him with his ‘special prisoner’.”

“That one’s special all right,” one of the guards muttered, shuddering. “If I get infected from capturing that thing – “

“Shouldn’t have let it claw you,” one of the other guards snickered.

The captain rolled his eyes at his man and waved the two of them in. “Yeah, go ahead. Better you than us. Just follow the screams.” He stepped aside and Dean relaxed slightly.

“Thank you,” Dean said with a brisk nod. He and Balthazar quickly walked through the room, the grimace on Balthazar's face had become more pronounced from the strain, sweat beading along his skin.

“Was that wise?” Balthazar murmured as the door to the dungeon proper was shut behind them with an ominous thudding sound.

“What? We got through without a fight. Isn’t that good?” Dean added absently, straining forward.

“Yeah, but do you think they’re going to just let us back out with their prisoner in tow, Alastair likely on our asses?” Balthazar pointed out.

“Good point. What if we knock Alastair out, have Cas shrink down – “

“He can do that?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Then I’ll carry him and we use your glamour again.”

“Could work, if Cassie is in any condition to do such,” Balthazar conceded.

“That I can handle,” Dean said, tugging at his collar where the chains of both lockets resided, hidden beneath his stolen tunic.

“Then we just need to get through Alastair.”

Castiel’s screams wrenched Dean onward, he didn’t even need the pull of their soulmate bond, but it pushed at him too, working him into a frenzy.

His mate was behind one of these doors and the closer he got, the harder it was to hear Balthazar's’ caution, or to slow his steps. He reached the door at the end of the hall and he yanked it open, his sword already drawn as he charged in.

Alastair was a mage, and the only way to get the upper hand would be to take him by surprise and – Dean hoped – take him out faster than Alastair could react.

It wasn’t a pretty plan. It wasn’t much of a plan at all. But Dean was beyond caring at this point. Behind him, Balthazar cursed and darted inside, the glamour falling away from both of them as he ducked toward the wall on the right side of the room and edged around Alastair.

Alastair’s attention was too focused on Dean to notice Balthazar was there.

“Dean, Dean, Dean! Here to rescue your mate? You’re a little late for that, now, don’t you think?” Alastair sneered. He flicked his wrist and Dean skidded to a halt against his will. He strained forward and Alastair laughed. “I must thank you for putting yourself within my reach once more. Now that I have the both of you, I’ll be able to do  _ everything  _ I want to do to him.”

“I’m not yours yet!” Dean snarled. “And Cas won’t be yours much longer!”

“And what do you think you’re going to do about it? Hmm?” Alastair flung his arms out and Dean went flying back, hitting the wall hard but staying there, held up by an unseen force. He kept his eyes upon Alastair, unwilling to let them get drawn to the motion behind the mage.

If he could keep Alastair distracted, then maybe Balthazar could set Cas free.

“You can’t force a bond…” Dean said uncertainly. He didn’t actually know if that was true. Cas hadn’t actually told him what it entailed.

“Hmm… traditionally, you’d be right. But I’ve found… ways,” Alastair sneered.

Dean struggled against the invisible grip Alastair had him in. It wasn’t all encompassing, he could wiggle a little here, a little there. Maybe he could…

Alastair stalked forwards, the knife he’d dropped when Dean charged in flying up into his hand once more. “I’m going to carve you up and make you scream…” he grinned and the sight made Dean   
flinch. He didn’t hide his fear of Alastair… Alastair preened over it, noticing nothing else  which was absolutely perfect.

Dean’s sword arm twitched against the hold, loosening and when Alastair got right up next to him, Dean used every ounce of will he had to shove his arm off the wall and towards Alastair.

It was rough, uncoordinated and Dean only managed to clock the side of Alastair’s head but it was supremely satisfying to see both the look of shock and the dribble of blood on Alastair’s face.

“Why you little – “ Alastair growled. “How did you  _ do  _ that?”

“Maybe you’re not as strong a mage as you think you are?” Dean taunted.

“I’ll show you who’s strong,” Alastair growled. He gestured and the invisible bonds on Dean tightened.

Dean looked desperately behind Alastair to see Balthazar’s progress. Realizing his mistake, Dean brought his eyes back to Alastair, hoping he didn’t look behind him.

“Oh, don’t bother looking to your mate to rescue you,” Alastair said, bringing up the knife and sliding it down Dean’s cheek. A small sting followed in its wake. “He’s all trussed up and drugged up and going _absolutely_ _nowhere.”_ Alastair continued to gloat gleefully. “I have the two of you right where I want. It was foolish to come alone, but I am so glad you did.”

Alone? Alastair was completely ignoring Balthazar, but had he seriously not seen him come in with Dean? Dean could see him clear as day, from Cas’s movements, so could he. Was Balthazar using a glamour? Then why wasn’t it working on Dean or Cas?

Hope rose in him. Whatever was going on, it could only work to their advantage.

Drawing back, Alastair took a step or two away towards something Dean couldn’t quite see. He struggled to follow Alastair’s movements. Alastair turned, a creepy grin on his face and a different blade held in his hand, something infinitely crueler looking.

“Are you ready for this, Dean? Because I’ve been looking forward to this for some time now. The possibilities… mmmm…. Should I carve you and make your mate watch? Or should I work on him instead? Which would hurt worse, mmm?” Alastair’s eyes glinted madly. “I suppose that depends on persp – “ Alastair grunted when  something solid slammed into his back , shoving him to the ground.

Alastair twisted under Castiel’s claws,  managing, somehow, to roll onto his back and then only just managing to keep Cas’s jaw from closing over his head with an upward punch of air.

The distraction meant Dean fell to his knees and he gasped before pushing back up and lunging for Alastair’s arms, seeing Balthazar doing the same on the other side. Unable to focus any more spells, there  was no longer anything preventing Cas from finishing what he’d started.

Alastair’s face twisted in shock and horror as he finally realized he was done and Dean had to admit, it was a pretty satisfying sight, nearly as satisfying as seeing him die at Cas’s claws and knowing Alastair would never cause trouble for them again.

“I hope you got a plan for getting outta here, Dean,” Balthazar said with a low whistle, “because those guards are on their way.”

Dean looked up to see Balthazar flat against the door, peeking out the crack and into the hall. Before Dean could say anything, Castiel charged past him, shouldering Balthazar aside who squawked as he scrambled to get out of the way.

Sharing a brief but stunned look, Dean and Balthazar quickly raced after Cas who seemed to grow larger as he ran, taking up nearly all the space in the hall as he barreled down the guards, leaving groaning speed bumps for Dean and Balthazar to leap over in his wake.

In this manner, it didn’t take them long to leave the dungeon and burst out the front door of the keep.

“I had no idea the old boy had it in him!” Balthazar called out as they ran to keep up with Cas.

“I just hope we make it out before he runs out of steam,” Dean called back. He tried to hold back his worry and concentrate all his effort on not falling behind. Cas, as big as he currently was, didn’t have to move fast to out pace them.

And to be honest, he wasn’t moving as fast as Dean had a feeling a creature of his size normally could. Cas may be feeling a battle rush, but he was still stumbling as he moved and Dean didn’t think it would take long before the burst of energy gave out on Cas.

To Dean’s surprise, instead of attacking Cas as he ran through the keep and the courtyard – or even Dean and Balthazar - people were diving out of their way.  _ Maybe,  _ Dean thought _ , they took one look at the dragon rampaging past them and wisely chose not to intervene… they probably think Balthazar and I will take care of him. From their perspective, it must look like we’re  _ **_chasing_ ** _ the dragon, not actually running  _ **_with_ ** _ the dragon. _

Whatever they thought, Dean couldn’t care less, as long as they made it out alive.

They darted over the drawbridge and into the woods, Dean trying to reach Cas to tell him which way to turn so they wouldn’t leave Bobby and their transportation behind, but before he could do so, Cas slowed down.

A lot.

Dean’s worries were right on target, because Cas stumbled and fell, breathing hard. Dean raced to his side, skidding to a stop on his knees even as Cas started to shimmer. Within seconds, Cas was once more human, and absolutely naked, covered in cuts both major and minor. Some had already started closing but many of the larger ones were still bleeding and Dean had to bite back on the sound of horror that tried to escape.

“Oh my God, Cas,” Dean whispered. “He really did a number on you…”

Balthazar reached his side, but stayed standing, turning to stare back the way they’d come, on guard for anyone brave enough to have followed. “I’m amazed he made it this far, but then, thank the gods for dragon stamina… “

Dean didn’t answer him, simply pulling at one of the lockets around his neck till the chain came off over his head. Cas’s eyes were closed and Dean reached to turn him more comfortably and pull Cas’s head into his lap. Slipping the chain over Cas’s head, Dean held the locket tight in his hand.

“I sure as hell hope this works,” he muttered.

“Whatever you’re doing, do it fast before they get mobilized over there,” Balthazar chided.

Dean ignored him again, too intent on helping Cas. “Fortis,” he intoned. “ Rursus creverit fortior.” The locket flashed and Dean had to look away, but when he turned back, he was dismayed to see that the stored spell hadn’t done much to heal Cas at all. All the minor wounds were gone, but the bigger ones didn’t even seem to have been touched, Cas was still unconscious and his skin was hot to the touch.

Desperate, Dean switched the Winchester Lockets and tried again. This time some of the bigger wounds slowly closed before his eyes, but Cas didn’t move.

“These should have worked!” Dean  said.

Balthazar looked back and shook his head. “You’re lucky they worked at all. Dragons are naturally resistant to magics, if not outright immune, whether harmful or beneficial. The fact your spells worked at all is a miracle. It probably has to do with the great amounts of dragonsbane Cas was dosed with, if my eyes did not deceive me.”

“Wonderful,” Dean muttered.

Hoof beats had them startling and looking up, only to see Bobby entering the clearing, three riderless horses in tow. “You idjits lookin’ to get caught again? Let’s get the hell outta here!”

“Help me with him?” Dean asked them, slowly standing, Balthazar’s hand on his elbow heping to steady Dean as he got to his feet, Castiel sideways in his arms.

“Boy, you ain’t mountin’ a horse with that kind of load,” Bobby admonished.

“I know that, Bobby,” Dean said through gritted teeth. He clicked at his horse, and she knelt on the ground, low enough that Dean could get Castiel propped partially on and partially in the saddle. Balthazar came over to hold him steady as Dean slung himself after him, shifting Castiel with Balthazar’s help till he was sideways across the saddle and in Dean’s lap. As he went to wrap his arms around Cas, Balthazar shook his head.

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?” Dean blinked at Balthazar and his comment uncomprehendingly.

“He’s your mate, Dean, and until we can get you both someplace safe, he’s suffering – not just from what Alastair did to him, but because of the unrequited bond. Skin to skin contact will ease that.”

Dean flushed but didn’t ask how Balthazar knew and instead, did as Balthazar suggested, ripping the tunic into strips to tie Castiel to him more firmly, in case it became necessary to ride hard.

When they were as close to ready as he and Cas were ever going to be, Dean nodded at Bobby and Balthazar and nudged Impala with his knees. She stamped uneasily, jittering about in a way Dean had never seen before, but she began to walk, long used to taking his commands. He sighed in relief as she moved forward.

Alastair might be dead, but who knew how long a respite that actually gave them. As much distance as they could put between themselves and Alastair’s underlings as they could, the better.

*** &*&*&CASTIEL*&*&*&***

Cas groaned, voices coming in and out as his consciousness waxed and waned. Something tightened around him in response and he became aware that his bare skin – still feverish – was lying against more bare skin – a chest, if the rise and fall of it was any indication.

As soon as he realized that, he noticed that he and whoever he was curled up against were bouncing, but he was starting to feel a little more clear headed than he had in… he gave up trying to figure that out. He burrowed closer to the strangely cooling balm of the other person, and dropped back under.

When he came to again, he was no longer moving, but laying on the hard ground of a cave, the crackle of a flame tickled his hearing the scent of burning wood filling his nostrils.

He blinked his eyes open just in time to see Dean sit beside him with something in his hand.

“Hey, Cas. How ya feelin’?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, do you remember what happened?”

“No, I…” he struggled to sit up and hands that were not Deans helped him. He flinched back, his eyes widening, but the hands held him strongly.

“Easy, Cassie, easy. You’re safe now…” Balthazar’s voice floated out from behind him and Castiel stopped moving in his surprise.

“Balthazar?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Cassie. What, you thought I’d let you go off on an adventure all by yourself, let you take all the glory?” Balthazar said. His words were jovial but there was relief in his tone as he helped Castiel to sit up. The blanket he was covered in slipped away to reveal that he was bare-chested but at least wearing pants.

Not that Castiel normally cared about such rules of propriety but humans did and he’d learned to adhere to them for their sake.

“Here, I got you something to eat,” Dean said handing him a strip of meat. “And some water. Actually, you should drink first.” Dean fumbled about, almost dropping the food till he could hand Castiel the water skin.

“Wait,” Castiel ignored the water skin, reaching past it to grab Dean’s arm. “What’s going on?”

“Alastair’s dead. We’re safe, Cas. And once we’re home, we can…” Dean looked away, blushing. “Unless you can’t hold out? I mean, I seem to be okay. Slight fever and my arm throbs like ma d, b ut I can manage. I’m more worried about you.”

Castiel relaxed. “I’m better than I was. At least in that regard,” he acknowledged, as he pulled on one of his wounds accidentally, noticing his bandages for the first time. “The bond… I think it senses intent and I’m less feverish and out of it than I was. It’s just the wounds…”

He frowned. “Actually, I expected more… I thought he…”

Dean reached forward and plucked something off Castiel’s chest. He looked down to find the locket John Winchester had given him around his neck once more, though he was sure he’d left it behind for Dean, where it belonged.

“Used the healing spell. In both of them actually. Shoulda done more but… with you being what you are, Balthazar said I was lucky it worked at all,” Dean explained softly.

“Oh,” Castiel responded. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have wasted it on me –"

“Not a waste, Cas. I’m sure it’ll never be a waste. I just regret I couldn’t help more,” Dean looked down forlornly and Castiel couldn’t believe his ears or his eyes.

“Couldn’t do more?” he asked incredulously. “I came out to rescue you, and instead, you rescued me! You didn’t give up on me, and you healed me… couldn’t do  _ more _ ?”

“Told you he’d react that way,” Balthazar chuckled from behind Castiel. Castiel had actually forgotten his friend was there.

A jingling from outside the small cave – different than the one he and Dean had initially holed up in. They must be going a different way than before – drew his attention to the horses tied outside, and the rain misting about, the sky threatening to break open like it had the day before. Had it been the day before? He shook his head.

“What’s… Alastair’s dead. How? Are we being chased? How far are we from the border? How did you rescue me?” Castiel asked. Movement and a grunt from the other side of the fire drew his attention that way, and he blinked. “Captain Singer?”

The man stood up and walked around to join them, holding a flask in his hand. “Boy, way I hear it, they snuck in, Dean distracted Alastair and your friend there cut your bindings and then  _ you  _ were responsible for Alastair’s death and their escape… We’re not too far from the border. Would be closer but the horses aren’t too keen on ya. Made it a bit of a struggle to get them okay with you.”

A look at Bobby showed that he was well aware of  _ why _ the horses has been uneasy around Castiel. Castiel stared at Bobby, alarmed, then back at Dean, his breathing getting unsteady. He tried to logic it out and calm himself down. Dean was okay with what Castiel was and he knew Balthazar was as well… Bobby’s face didn’t look like one about to do harm and surely, if he had a problem with Castiel being a dragon, then Castiel wouldn’t have gotten this far with Dean.

Right?

“I still can’t believe you all are truly okay with this,” Cas said, trying not to choke up. “Okay with… with  _ me.  _ It’s been so, so long since… so many years and I haven’t…”

Dean smiled at him warmly and grasped Castiel’s shoulder. “More than okay. It's’ pretty magical, actually. My family, the keep and the lands surrounding it, we all grew up on the stories and the legends, so they’ll be fairly accepting of you – enthusiastic, in fact.”

“There’s precedent, too, so despite your seemingly lower profession, my father can’t even object to the match. Neither could King Michael.”

Castiel jolted at the idea that  _ so many people _ know what he was. That had never been a good thing in the past. Dean seemed convinced of his acceptance but Cas wasn’t sure he’d be  _ safe  _ if people knew – if the  _ King  _ knew – where the last dragon in the world lived, and who they had to get to, to get to him.

“Then there’s you,” Dean said softly. “As if being a dragon wasn’t awesome enough, you are pretty awesome as just you. I feel lucky. I know we haven’t known each other long, and I don’t know how much of this is because of the bond, but… you’re a great fighter and strategist, as well as brave and selfless. You tried to sacrifice yourself – for the kingdom, and for me! You didn’t even know me!”

“But I  _ do  _ know you. By reputation, at first. Then from how easily you accepted me, and the bond is rarely wrong.”

“But you didn’t know it was me when you came to rescue me. You gave up your own chance at happiness to help me. And what about Charlie? You had no idea how well that would work in your favor when you helped her. In fact, it could have gone so wrong, but you did it anyway.

“Cas, I admire you and like you already and I have the feeling that the longer we know each other, the harder I’m going to fall for you.”

“The fact that you’re both so pretty sure doesn’t hurt,” Balthazar quipped.

Castiel and Dean both startled, having forgotten – however briefly – that they still had an audience. Dean flushed red and ducked his head which Cas found absolutely adorable. Mesmerized by the sight, Cas couldn’t help but reach out for Dean, cupping his jaw and tilting his head back up once more.

Dean chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Nothing like a love confession or confession of interest when your uncle is watching.”

“I was ignoring you, ya idjits,” Bobby grumped.

“Then keep ignoring us, cause I think I’m gonna kiss Cas, now.” Dean lowered his voice, “if you want me to, that is?”

“Please,” Cas breathed, “I’ve been... Our last kiss was – it was so much more than I had ever dreamed it could be.”

Dean didn’t waste any time in taking advantage of Castiel’s permission, for which Castiel was quite glad – the anticipation might have killed him. As it was, within a bare heartbeat, maybe two, their lips met.

They lost themselves in the kiss, relishing in the fact that they could freely enjoy it now, no fear over Alastair hanging over their heads. Heat wrapped around Castiel and when they finally pulled away from each other, he slowly opened his eyes – he didn’t even remember closing them – to find the remnants of a glow fading away. He blinked, clearing his eyes and revealing Dean’s awed face, eyes wide and mouth gaping open.

“What just happened?” Dean whispered.

“What do you mean?” Cas reached a hand to his still tingling lips.

“You near blinded us, that’s what happened.” Bobby shook his head wonderingly, scratching at it as he stared at Cas and Dean with wide eyes and a small smile tugging at his lips, small enough that it was nearly hidden by the beard.

Castiel blinked over in Bobby and Balthazar’s direction with a questioning look, then back at Dean.

“Cas, your wounds…” Dean said quietly. “The ones on your face just… closed, right before my eyes.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Dean, it’s the bond.”

“That’s something it can do? This is normal?” Dean asked.

“No, actually, it’s very rare.” Cas stared at Dean feeling just as awed as Dean still looked.

“So what, you saying we’re a fairy tale – you were healed by true love’s kiss?” Dean laughed a little. “C’mon, Cas. That aint real! As nice as it would be if it were true.”

“Well, the stories had to come from somewhere,” Cas pointed out. “All fairytales have some basis in truth. Dragons exist, after all, and that is also considered by most a fancy fairy tale.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Dean conceded.

“You idjits are makin’ me sick,” Bobby groused. “Let him eat and then the both of you better go to sleep. I want to wake up early and finish getting out of Tenebrim as fast as possible.”

*** &*&*&DEAN*&*&*&***

Dean tried not to hover as Cas ate. It was obvious he was feeling better, which made Dean very happy. After Cas had eaten his fill, they unwrapped and checked his other wounds, only to find he had completely healed.

And when it was time to sleep, Dean hesitated until Cas touched his arm gently, pulling him closer. “If we stay close, it would ease the pains of the bond till we can get back,” Cas offered.

Dean gladly took the offer and the two of them made a bed together on one side of the fire, ignoring the rolling eyes of Bobby and the snickers of Balthazar.

He was nervous, laying down beside Cas. True, they were soul mates. Their kissing was… electric and addicting. There was definitely a spark there, but they were still virtually strangers. What would be acceptable? Dean wanted, craved, to wrap himself around Castiel, but would that be too much, too fast?

However, Dean needn’t have worried. As soon as he lay down on the hard ground with their packs as makeshift pillows, Cas rolled to face Dean and burrowed into his side. Nearly naked, Cas’s skin alone kept Dean heated enough that the small fire was unnecessary and he began to sweat. Was it Cas’ natural skin temperature, or was this the remnants of the bond? He suddenly remembered their conversation from the last cave they had shared, how Cas’s body had been changing. Was that still happening? From what Cas had explained, the changes were more internal than external, there was no way Dean could tell just by looking at him.

How did he ask that?

“Cas,” he whispered, rubbing at the arm draped over his middle, his breath stirring the strands of dark hair laying across his chest. “You said you were changing… is that why Alastair caught you? Is it over yet?”

“Hmmm… I think so, on both counts. And I am eternally grateful that it is a process I only have to suffer in my lifetime once, because it was vastly unpleasant,” Cas grumped, his breath hot and wet against Dean’s stolen tunic.

“So how fast should we get back because of this bond?” Dean asked after a few moments. Cas had settled quickly into his arms. “I mean, I was practically dying before and you weren’t much better.”

“That’s not… you weren’t dying, Dean.”

“Certainly felt like I was. Even Alastair’s men thought so,” Dean protested.

“Dean, you’d just been hit over the head who knows how many times and the initial searing of the bond can cause a body to be… somewhat feverish. That part always seems to hit humans the hardest. But when I rescued you, you were fine. A little disoriented, still a little bit feverish perhaps, but fine. Alastair barely touched you in any way that could cause you lasting harm. I counted us lucky on that discovery, actually.”

“But then you…”

“I told you, my body was changing. Faster than I had expected but that’s done now. We have more than enough time to get somewhere safe and private to complete our bond properly.

“Then why are we…” Dean squeezed Castiel’s arm where it lay draped over his chest. “Not that I mind. This feels… really awesome but…”

“Because exactly that. It feels good to be close to you, feels good to be… to be touched. Just… just like this. I don’t remember the last time I simply embraced someone…” Castiel’s voice drifted off, sad, and Dean swallowed against the lump of feeling in his throat. “And I just want to… to be closer to my mate. To revel in this feeling. Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, of course,” Dean coughed, trying to speak without choking on the emotions that had raised up with Cas’s words.

“Also, it  _ does  _ help. My bond is yearning towards you so much, it’s nearly unbearable. I don’t think I can sleep with you so close but not touching and we need sleep.”

“I won’t argue that,” Dean said with a yawn. It’d been a long, exhausting few days with barely any sleep.

“So do we – will you two stop chattering and sleep already?” Bobby grumbled.

“Here, here,” Balthazar chimed in wholeheartedly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Fortis,” = Strong  
>  “Rursus creverit fortior.” = grow once more strong
> 
> I didn't use a lot of latin this time around, but thats what those mean, according to google translate. As ever, I found Enochion lacking in vocabulary.


	6. Coming Home

*** &*&*&CASTIEL*&*&*&***

They were woken early the next morning by Balthazar, who handed them both dried food – soldier rations, of course.

“Bobby’s getting the horses ready. Old man still doesn’t trust me to help.” Balthazar snorted. “If we press hard, we should get back by nightfall.” He eyed Castiel. “Hopefully, your horse won’t give us any problems with dragon boy over here.”

“Impala will get used to him,” Dean said as he sat up, Castiel reluctantly breaking away to let him. “She trusts me.” Dean flashed Castiel a smile and it made Castiel’s insides warm.

Nevertheless, he approached the black horse warily when they finally got to their feet and made it outside with their packs, the fire doused and cleaned up.

“C’mon, she’s friendly and strong. She carried us both yesterday, didn’t you girl?” Dean said, rubbing Impala’s nose and clicking at her with his tongue. She whickered back and bumped her head against his chest. Castiel couldn’t help but smile at the exchange.

“Shouldn’t he get his own horse?” Bobby asked. “I mean, we did bring an extra for a reason and it’d be faster if yours wasn’t carrying double the weight, Dean.”

“I know, old man, but the other horse isn’t gonna let him near her without someone getting hurt.”

“Besides,” Castiel noted, “I don’t know how to ride. What I said the last time is true. Also…” Castiel lifted his tunic over his head and handed it to Dean who drew in a sharp breath, obviously realizing what Castiel intended. His pants fell next and Castiel had to hold back a grin at how flustered Dean got.

Within seconds, Castiel was once more smaller than a cat and Balthazar was cooing and poking a finger in his face even as Dean was crouching down to pick him up.

Castiel snapped at Balthazar’s finger and Dean laughed. “He might not be able to talk like this, but I think his message was loud and clear.”

“See if I ever help you with your armor again,” Balthazar griped, getting on his horse.

Bobby cursed under his breath and shook his head, breaking the gaze that had been stuck on Castiel during the transformation and after. “Well, I suppose he can’t weigh all that much like that. If that’s all, I’d like to get going.”

Dean draped Castiel around his neck like he had when they were walking and smoothly, despite the bandaged ankle Castiel had noticed the night before, hauled them both up into the black horse’s saddle.

She shook her head and stamped a little nervously, an unladylike snort escaping her and causing Dean to laugh. He leaned forward and Castiel scrambled to hang on without hurting Dean, managing to get his claws into the loose fabric of his stolen tunic.

With a pat, Dean whispered to his mare. “Calm down, Impala, it’s just Cas. You carried him yesterday too. He’s not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

Dean’s tone soothed the horse and Castiel curled into Dean, admiring the man he was – one who obviously cared about people and animals alike. It was a good sign for their future together.

“Cas, you purring again?” Dean’s laughing rumble shook Castiel on his perch. He purred louder, reaching out his long tongue to lick Dean’s cheek before settling in. Impala started moving, Dean letting Balthazar and Bobby lead the way, and the time passed fairly uneventfully. The three of them talked as they went – the only thing that Castiel regretted about his current situation was that he couldn’t join in – and he dozed occasionally despite attempts not to.

It was rare for him to feel this comfortable and safe. And it was all thanks to Dean and the easy acceptance of him and the bond.

Despite his best efforts, that feeling and the events of the last few days left Castiel too exhausted to put up more than a token fight before succumbing to sleep once more. Dean’s chuckle woke him much later as Dean reached up and scratched Castiel under his chin. Castiel nuzzled into Dean’s neck before he yawned and looked about, trying to place where they were.

“Almost there,” Dean murmured. “Another hour, perhaps. At least that’s what Bobby says.”

Castiel blinked, first in acknowledgement, then in alarm. They couldn’t go riding into camp with him still like this! He scrambled across Dean’s shoulders, trying not to hurt Dean as he did, sliding down Dean’s back and onto Impala, doing his best to keep his claws in or at least on any part of the saddle he could touch.

Impala slowed as Dean reined her in with a “Whoa…. Cas, what’s going on?”

Gathering himself, Castiel leapt to the ground lightly, his wings briefly flaring out as he did. Nearly as soon as his feet touched the ground, he was shifting, the world around him growing smaller once more.

He shivered briefly until Dean regained his senses and dug Castiel’s clothes of their pack, and Castiel donned them quickly.

“Thank you, Dean. Will Impala be all right carrying both of us for the rest of the trip?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. But I don’t understand – “

“Think about it, boy,” Bobby groused, turning his own horse to return to their side. Balthazar joined them.

“Cassie can’t go back as a dragon, no matter his size. At best, no one links the dragon with him, but then they’ll wonder where  _ he  _ is – especially if he simply turns up in camp mysteriously – and they’ll most likely also react poorly to the dragon suddenly in their midst. We can hope they wouldn’t, and that would be the best-case scenario, but it might not. And worst case, people  _ do  _ figure it out and then there’s backlash of several kinds. Your nobles will be wondering if he’s a dragon, why hasn’t he won the war for us? They’re powerful, aren’t they? And the common folks, the soldiers, well, most of them don’t know the true histories. They’ve all grown up on the lies woven into the stories they tell their children at night about his kind.”

“But… we could tell them, explain everything,” Dean protested. “Our people at home know –"

“Dean, maybe in the future, with select people and careful planning, but right now, I’d rather not take the risk,” Castiel said, placing a hand placatingly on Dean’s shoulder. “I appreciate your support more than you know, but I have not had good experiences in this regard.”

Dean deflated but nodded. “All right, I’ll defer to your judgement on this. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Not after all the trouble we both went through to keep each other safe.”

*** &*&*&DEAN*&*&*&***

As Dean had expected, there was no grand entrance or welcoming committee, though he was sure they’d been spotted half a dozen times over before they’d even reached camp. There was some brief confusion as to which direction to head first once they got inside.

Did they go straight to John, or to Captain Milton? There were good odds that the two would even be together, coordinating the next skirmish.

In the end, it was Castiel who had suggested they split up and make their respective reports separately for the fastest results. Dean was rather reluctant to do so, but had to admit the reasoning behind it was clear. At about the halfway point between their two sections, Dean slowed Impala and let Castiel slide down, their hands and eyes lingering a long moment before Dean sighed.

“I’ll see you soon?”

“I look forward to it,” Cas answered.

Still, neither of them moved.

Balthazar broke the moment with a cough, handing the reins to his horse over to Dean. Dean arranged them automatically so that the horse could follow, Bobby already leading the horse that Cas had never used.

“Thank you ever so much for your help, Balthazar. And don’t worry about…” Dean trailed off, wanting to assure him he could keep Balthazar’s secret without actually saying anything. You never knew who could be listening. Everyone around them looked too busy, but it only took one wrong word at the worst time to make things come crashing down.

“Just doing my duty. Also, it’d be a shame if I let the only soldier who’s ever put up with me longer than a fortnight get killed on a suicide run,” Balthazar joked, jerking his thumb at Castiel. “Where would I be then?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and muttered, “Let’s go.”

They turned away and were soon out of sight amidst the myriad tents and gatherings of soldiers at various tasks.

With a sigh and a cluck to Impala, Dean turned away.

“Don’t be so forlorn, boy. You two are mates. Nothing will keep you away from each other now,” Bobby finally said gruffly.

Dean hummed and pushed Impala into a faster pace. Faster he got to his father and showed him he was all right, the faster he could get back to Cas. He didn’t know how long they had before the bond would get insistent, but now that the two of them were safe, he didn’t want to put it off any longer, for Cas’s sake.

As soon as they crossed over into the Silver Hooves camp, there was shouting and cheers ringing through it. People poked their heads out of their tents, a few came racing over – including Sam.

Which meant Dad had to know the kid was there. Dean was suddenly glad he hadn’t been around for  _ that  _ blow out.

He reached the main tent and swung his leg over, sliding off Impala, only wincing slightly as he put weight on his wrapped ankle. He covered it quickly. Aaron took Impala’s reins and lead her away. Dean felt a pang of guilt that someone else was taking care of his horse, but he had things to do and he knew she was in good hands.

Bobby joined him seconds later, and together they ducked into his father’s tent, Sam close on their heels.

The tent went silent as everyone looked up to see who’d intruded. John strode forward and grabbed Dean by both shoulders. “It’s good to see you, son,” he said, emotion choking his voice, making it rough.

He pulled Dean into a brief, but tight embrace, before stepping back.

“You okay?” he swept his gaze up and down Dean’s person, taking in the stolen clothes, the careful stance and the cuts and bruises that littered his skin.

Dean shrugged but smiled. “Could be worse,” he said. “Got good news for you all – Alastair is dead.”

John’s face was stunned as he stared at Dean silently for a moment or two, murmurs of surprise breaking out around them. Finally, he said, “How’d you pull that off?”

“I didn’t, actually. Castiel did.”

“Damn foolish risk taking –" John started.

Dean shook his head. “No, the only way out was through. Listen, it’s a long story with more to tell than I can tell here, but the important takeaway  _ is  _ that we’re all alive and Alastair isn’t. And seeing he was one of the bigger powers in Tenebrim, I don’t think that’s a small thing.”

“No, you’re right,” John conceded. “And we need to tell the others. This may change a few plans. But Dean –” John lowered his voice. “You  _ will  _ tell me all of what happened, right? I have a feeling it’s important.”

“It is…” Dean agreed. “But on a more personal level. Trust me, we can’t talk about it here but we  _ do  _ need to talk about it. It’s imperative that we get this taken care of as soon as we can. There could be consequences I’d rather not see if we don’t.”

John looked over at Bobby and back at Dean. “Your words are cryptic and fill me with foreboding, but I trust you. Bobby, what say you?”

“Do just that. Trust Dean and… trust Castiel,” Bobby said. “Now, if you don’t need me for anything, I think Dean and I should get cleaned up and find some real food. Where should we join you when we’re done?”

“Captain Milton’s. We’ve been put in joint command and she’s closer to the front,” John said, dismissing them both. He turned and immediately started barking commands, even as Dean, Bobby and Sam slipped back out of the tent, Sam bouncing on his toes just waiting to get his brother alone to question him.

With a quick look around, Dean motioned for Sam to lean closer. “Not just now. Let me get some grub first. But you are  _ not  _ gonna believe this…”

*** &*&*&CASTIEL*&*&*&***

Far from the welcome Dean was sure to be getting as he returned to his company and his family, Castiel and Balthazar walked to their own camp with no effusive greetings, only stunned whispers.

Castiel knew he must have looked awful – worse than he actually was, considering that he’d been healed. But he’d never been seen in this state outside of a full-on battle – and even then, not like this. In dirty, bloodstained clothes clearly not his own, the remnants of blood matting his hair, the dark circles under his eyes…

He’d also never been gone this long before.

He knew rumors were likely spreading as quickly as wildfire as they walked deeper into their camp.

Balthazar spoke softly, knowing Castiel could hear him. “You’ll need to tell Captain Milton. If anyone can be trusted, I think she can.”

“I know,” Castiel nodded slightly in return, resigned. If he were to convince her of the severity of his situation, of his need to take his leave of Angel’s Outfit, then he would  _ have  _ to explain why.

It was not a thing he was looking forward to. The idea that so many people were learning who and what he really was unsettled him. Dean, it only made sense, and he  _ wanted  _ to tell Dean. Balthazar had figured it out on his own and truly, that had been a relief. The first person who knew what Cas was in so long… and it couldn’t have been a better man.

Or, Fae, Cas supposed. That was a startling surprise, but it certainly made a few things make more sense. At least one of which was why they’d been drawn to each other and were so much more likely to put up with each other than anyone else in the company. They had had a lot more in common than they ever knew, till now.

Bobby knew, and soon John and Sam would as well – all the people that Dean cared about.

Family.

It had been so long since Castiel had had a family that it made his heart ache with longing. He could only hope that they would accept him as easily as Dean did.

Each step forward seemed leaden, as they tore him further away from Dean and ever closer to the talk with his captain that he so dreaded. What if Balthazar was wrong? What if Captain Milton learned what he was and wanted to use him as a weapon of war?

It wouldn’t go very well for her – or for him, for that matter – but that wouldn’t stop her if she put her mind to it. It had rarely stopped humans before.

He couldn’t put it off very long. His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the approach to Captain Milton’s command tent. The guards – normally so stoic and reserved – did a double take as they took in Castiel’s appearance. Compared to him, Balthazar looked like a freshly picked flower.

“Let’s get this over with,” Castiel muttered, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. The guards let him by uncontested and he ducked inside the open tent, Balthazar hot on his heels.

Castiel’s appearance shocked the tent’s occupants into silence before they broke out in incredulous murmurs. Captain Milton looked up and her own expression went wide with surprise.

“Castiel!” Captain Milton’s gaze raked over first Castiel, then Balthazar and back again, before shaking her head. “Mission status?”

“There were a few snags along the way –" Castiel started.

“That’s a bit of an understatement, I think,” Balthazar interrupted.

Castiel glared and so did Captain Milton. “But our mission was successful, and we managed a few… other things as well.”

“I’ll say.” She snorted. “Way I hear it, you completely disrupted the Tenebrims on your way through, rescuing other allies while you were at it.”

“Wait till you hear what he did next.” Balthazar grinned broadly.

“I must admit, Captain Milton, that I cannot give you an unfiltered report at this time – “

“Are you disobeying me, Castiel?” her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“No, I am asking for privacy in which to tell my tale. Once you have heard it, I think you will understand why,” Castiel said carefully.

Balthazar broke in. “Captain, please. He’s uh… you’re gonna want to give him privacy as he says. His life could be at stake if you do not.”

She stared at them both in surprise and then nodded. “Very well. Is there anything else that I need to know right this moment?”

“Alastair is dead.”

She blinked at Castiel’s blunt announcement. Excited murmurs grew behind her. Captain Milton ignored them, her full focus on Castiel and Balthazar. Her eyes flicked between them.

“Well then. That… that  _ does _ sound like there’s a story to hear. You two get cleaned up and grab some food but I want you  _ back here on the double _ .” She glared at them sternly. “Both of you.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Castiel said with a respectful nod. Having the talk postponed only made him more anxious about it, but he couldn’t deny that he’d kill for a real meal.

Or, well, wartime food, which was better than what they’d been subsisting off of for the past few days. There wasn’t much time for hunting when you were running for your life.

“Don’t thank me yet. Let me hear your tale first,” Captain Milton said, turning away to face the others in the tent.

“It’s a ‘tail’ all right.” Balthazar snorted. His words went unheard by any other than Castiel, but Castiel still glared at him for skirting so close to the truth. Balthazar merely shrugged, leading the way back out of the tent.

After freshening up, and with a solid meal in his belly, Castiel felt much more prepared to face his captain. He wasn’t as sanguine as Balthazar was about how the talk would go, but he was better prepared at any rate.

When they re-entered the captain’s tent an hour later, they found it empty of all but Captain Milton and Lord John Winchester, much to Castiel’s relief. He hadn’t counted on John, but it made sense, even if he wished Dean had accompanied him.

What had Dean told him? Had he told him anything yet?

“Castiel,” John intoned slowly, his face serious but his voice grateful, “it appears I have much to thank you for, on both a personal level – I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for saving my son – and for certain other things you accomplished along the way. However did you manage to kill a sorcerer such as Alastair? Many have tried and ultimately failed.”

Balthazar and Castiel shared a wry glance. “It was a … group effort, milord. I was powerless until Dean and Balthazar arrived, giving me an opportunity I would not otherwise have had.”

“What exactly happened? What’s the timeline here? You were sent to rescue Lord Winchester's son, but he rescued  _ you?”  _ Captain Milton asked.

Before he could answer her very understandable confusion, movement behind him made Castiel’s lips curl up just the slightest bit. He didn’t have to look to know who was there, he could feel him, the bond reaching out to him.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said before finally turning to catch sight of his soul mate.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answered softly, a grin lighting his face. “You look better.”

Castiel merely inclined his head, but the smile on his lips widened. He was unable to restrain himself any longer – not that he really wanted to.

A throat cleared, calling them both back to themselves.

“Now that we’re all here, I believe we were both promised a full report of what happened?” John said impatiently.

Dean looked at Milton and quirked his eyebrow up. Castiel nodded. The exchange did not go unnoticed by their superiors.

“It’s all right, Dean. I’ve decided to trust my captain with the truth,” he said, though he felt anything but fine at the prospect.

“All right, enough with the cryptic talk. Just spill it,” she almost growled.

Carefully, between the two of them, they explained the majority of what had happened with only a few interruptions along the way by Balthazar and Bobby. Other than that, Dean and Castiel were able to proceed without too much trouble.

As soon as they were done, however, there was pandemonium as both Lord Winchester and Captain Milton attempted to question them at the same time, talking over each other so that their words were nigh unintelligible.

“As I’m sure you can understand, I would like to keep the truth about myself as quiet as possible,” Castiel cut in. His words had the intended effect of getting them to slow down, but he winced at the excited look on Milton’s face.

“But Castiel – you are an asset of unbelievable proportions! A dragon? On our side? Just think what we could do! How quickly this could end – !” The wheels in her mind were obviously turning as she beamed at him.

“I’m not a very good one – an asset I mean,” Castiel pointed out. “You all have some misconceptions about what dragons can do. But we were much like humans. Some have certain abilities and greater skill than others. I am, as a dragon, more fairly compared with a common soldier. I am physical only. My only advantages lie in my near immunity to magic and the ability to shift into the form you see before you. I am no mage. I have been as effective as I am for the simple fact that no one  _ knows  _ what I am.”

“It doesn’t matter, Anna. Castiel is soul bonded to my son and is now under Winchester protection. When I leave here, I’ll be making preparations to excuse the both of them from the front,” Winchester said, surprising Castiel.

Anna spluttered. “You can’t do that! Castiel is still under my command! Do with your son as you will but – “

“You keep Cas here, and you’ll kill him,” Dean growled, stepping forwards.

Anna paled. “What?”

“It’s the soul mate bond, Anna,” John pointed out. “I’m not surprised that you don’t know, since it’s not common, but our family has experience with this sort of thing. The bond has just marked them fairly recently, which means it’s not complete. Until it is, keeping them apart in this crucial stage is detrimental to their well-being.  You’ll hurt my son and you  _ will _ kill your soldier. And then where will your ‘great asset’ be?”

“I didn’t know,” She said quietly, suddenly subdued.

“One more thing, Anna,” Lord Winchester said. “I don’t think Castiel’s true nature should spread beyond this room. Which means…”

“Milord! You can’t mean to deceive the King!” she gasped, the horror at such an action clearly marked upon her face.

Lord Winchester held his hands up before him almost placatingly. “Not deceive. Nor is it a lie. We’re just withholding personal information that could endanger lives if it became known. We’re protecting those we care for. The king might be trustworthy, but he is surrounded by people who seek political gains. And despite Castiel’s limitations, a king in need will use anything he thinks will give him an advantage, however ill-fitting it is to the needs of the moment.”

“You think he would seek to use me as an intimidator against his enemies, both across the border and in his own throne room?” Castiel asked, not surprised.

“I do,” John said with a firm nod. “And by doing so, you’ll have a target painted on not only yourself, but my son, my family and my lands. He will seek to keep you by his side at all times – a personal bodyguard and, in all practicality, a pet. You will lose your freedom entirely, and be given no choice about it except rebellion.”

“Michael will not see Castiel as a person with the same rights and considerations as any of his other subjects. He’ll only see a weapon he can use,” Bobby said gruffly.

“Like Alastair did…” Balthazar, silent till now, broke in.

Nobody there liked being compared to the now dead sorcerer, and a round of shudders went through those gathered in the tent before John continued talking,

“Regardless, Castiel, you will be safe within my lands, to the best of my ability. I do not fight for Michael, I fight to keep my home and my fellow countrymen safe. I have no illusions as to the kind of person he has become. He might have good intentions, but at this point, he is barely better than Azazel and his ilk.”

“You have rather strong opinions of the king,” Castiel noted, careful to keep his voice bland. “I’m surprised you speak them so openly.”

“I do not. I speak it among family, and Anna has long since known my feelings about Michael,” John said.

She sighed. “I may even share them, even though I was nearly guilty of doing just what John fears our king would do to you.”

“To be honest, there were three reactions possible when I revealed myself tonight, and that was one of the expected ones,” Castiel admitted. “I do not blame you for the ideas that came to you, only so long as you realize that they are impossible to implement in the ways that you want. I am still willing to do my part in this fight… I am also willing to continue using my nature to our advantage. It has borne me in good stead where else I’d have died… but I cannot be open about who and what I am, and I will not be enslaved or used with no regards to the safety of myself and my new family.”

Castiel felt giddy saying that, and giddier still when Dean’s hand slipped into his. “Regardless, my contract is up fairly soon and I will need some time to adjust to the changes in my life and make a new plan for a future I thought didn’t exist.”

“Though I am honored that you felt you could,” Anna said with a sigh, “I heartily wish you had not trusted me with this information. The temptation to use it is too strong. The worry that I’ll slip up and betray you is also great.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “To think that I may have to lie to my king’s face – and I cannot use the excuse that I did not know to save myself from the repercussions of such actions.”

“Anna, if it ever happens that you need to, you’ll be welcome also in our lands, and protected,” Dean said. “We don’t offer this lightly, and it is not to be abused. If it turns out you’ve betrayed Cas… if any harm comes to him because you intentionally let slip what his true nature is…” Dean faltered and Castiel squeezed his hand tight.

“I get it. Threats are unnecessary, Dean,” she said, sighing again,  running a hand down her face tiredly . “Now why don’t you sorry lot get out of my hair. Castiel, you will have orders assigning you to the Silver Hooves by morning. What Lord Winchester chooses to do with you after that is none of my business.”

Anna froze, her hand dropping from her face and her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she rounded on Balthazar. "Wait. You  _ knew.  _  About Castiel. You barged in here positive he was going to die but unable to tell us why. You knew all along."

"Well, I wouldn't say I knew  _ all  _ along. I'm good, but not  _ that  _ good," Balthazar said with a nonchalant shrug.

Anna still stared at him, her eyes speculative. "The two of you are among my best and yet both of you set my other men on edge. Are you - "

"Oh no, Captain," Balthazar’s eyes widened and Castiel realized what Anna was driving at in the same moment. "I am definitely no dragon. I may not be full blooded human but dragon blood does not run through my veins."

He paused for a second or two and then surprised Castiel again.

"I suppose I might as well tell you since it was I who encouraged Castiel to reveal himself to you,” Balthazar said with a wry smile. “I'm part Fae. Many generations removed, perhaps, but Fae, such as it is."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that explains a bit. Not that I'm all too familiar with the Fae but... it does make sense, then, that the two of you were drawn to each other as working partners."

"Doesn't it?" Balthazar’s eyes twinkled. "It was positively serendipitous."

Castiel threw a glance towards John - the only one left in the tent that hadn’t known about Balthazar’s lineage - but the knowledge didn’t seem to throw him. Maybe he just didn’t care. After all, his family already had a history with non humans before Castiel came along. Add to that the fact that Balthazar was also instrumental in his son’s rescue and the death of Alistair…

Lord Winchester stood there unphased.

Captain Milton looked at Balthazar thoughtfully, saying in a resigned tone, “You might as well take that one with you. The two of you were a great partnership and no one else was ever willing to put up with either of you in close proximity for more than a few days at a time. I fear he’d be more of a detriment to soldier morale than anything else.”

Balthazar grinned, turning to beam triumphantly at Bobby while Bobby groaned.

“Wonderful… just what we needed. A self-absorbed Fae who can’t even tell the front end of a horse from the rear end…” the last of Bobby’s grumbles went unheard as he turned on his heels and stalked out of the camp.

Balthazar’s words, however, floated through the air loud and clear as he scampered after him, taking his leave. “C’mon, old man, admit it – I’ve grown on you…”

Bobby’s next words were unheard completely as the two retreated further from the tent.

“I asked for one and you’re saddling me with another? Thanks for asking, Anna,” John said with a laugh.

“Hey, it’s your punishment for taking one of my best men.” She turned to Castiel. “Be well, and be careful. And you,” she looked at Dean, then smiled and shook her head. “Never mind. I can see you’re already so besotted that any words I have to say are useless. Go on, get outta here, the both of you.”

Castiel felt Dean tug on his hand and he followed him out of the tent.

“Hey, I’ll help you pack,” Dean said.

“There’s not much to pack but… I welcome the company,” Castiel said, happiness suffusing him. “Even the short time that we were apart was already unbearable.” He shifted his hand to thread their fingers together and felt a thrill run through him as Dean’s fingers eagerly curled about his.

It was such a strange and gentle thing in the middle of a camp armed for war, dirty and gritty and hard, but Castiel loved it all the more for that reason. The fact that despite everything, there was still softness out there, it gave him hope. And Dean was the shape of that hope.

They may have rescued each other from Alastair, but Dean had rescued Castiel from himself, and Castiel would never forget that, would forever be amazed by that.

It was his turn to tug at Dean as he led the way through the camp to the tent he shared with Balthazar.

*** &*&*&DEAN*&*&*&***

Much as they had wanted to, they didn’t leave straight away. Instead, they met outside of the Winchester command tent early the next morning. They’d barely had an opportunity to greet each other when a red headed woman bounced over with a beaming grin on her face.

“Oh hey! Look at you - you’re alive! And you’re  _ definitely _ looking much better than the  _ last  _ time I saw you,” she continued on as Dean stared at her quizzically, trying to remember when they’d met. He was drawing a complete blank. “Wait – are you the guy Cas was sent to rescue? Nice! Because of you, I got rescued too. Thanks again for that, Cas.” She turned her grin upon Cas, somehow brightening even further, Dean wasn’t sure how. Cas, at least, looked like he recognized her.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to place you,” Dean said apologetically when she turned back to him.

“I’m not surprised. You  _ were  _ hit over the head after all. Maybe more than once judging by the amount of blood matting your hair down and staining your clothes. You were also pretty feverish at the time. So now we can do  _ proper _ introductions - I’m Charlie!” She exclaimed, holding out her hand. “And I’m coming with you.”

“Wait, what?” Dean blinked at her. “Why?” The name sounded familiar and then it clicked. Charlie was the scout Bobby had told him about… and apparently they’d already met? Dean must really have been out of it. Then again, a few blows to the head and a soul mate fever can really do a number on a person.

Charlie made a face.

“Well, apparently my captain thought I needed a rest up after my ordeal and since you guys are the only ones leaving the hot zone for someplace she trusts, I’m coming along,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Captain’s orders.”

“Ah, so you’re convalescing, then?” Cas spoke up. “Dean is too. Good to see you safe and sound, Charlie.”

Dean spluttered but Cas and Charlie ignored him.

“You too, Cas,” Charlie’s grin became even brighter. How the hell was she doing that?

Beside Dean, Benny chuckled,  startling him into turning to find even more people joining them. How big was this group going to get? Dean glared at him.

“And why do we have this huge entourage?” Dean asked, pointedly looking around at the gathered group. There was Dean, Cas and Sam – what Dean had expected – Charlie – whom Dean had  _ not  _ expected,  but now there was also  Benny, Garth and even Jack!

“You think your father’s gonna let his only two children and heirs travel cross country alone, during wartime, after one of them just dealt a heavy blow to the other side?”  Benny asked shrewdly, an eyebrow rising on his face.

“So basically, we’ve acquired three bodyguards?” Dean was not pouting. “L ook, Benny. You know me, and Cas here is pretty formidable himself. We can take care of ourselves, man. I mean, Cas and I pretty much did for like, a week, and under extenuating circumstances to boot.”

Garth leaned over. “I dunno, Dean. You did get captured to begin with.”

“Yeah, and who let that happen in the first place?” he grumbled, not really meaning it. Battles were fast and full of confusion. It was easy to be drawn off target when you were blocking the next blow from connecting, and the one after that.

Garth didn’t take offense, just grinning in response. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure this is as much a punishment detail as bodyguard work.”

Benny and Jack nodded solemnly.

“Lord Winchester’s extra mad at me because I let Sam take my place,” Jack confided. He looked awfully forlorn.

“Yeah, Sam’s super persuasive when he wants to be,” Dean said with a sigh. “Well then, I guess we’re all here?” He looked around as everyone nodded. Castiel hesitated until Balthazar jogged up. “We have enough horses for everyone?”

Castiel squirmed. “It’s not the wisest of ideas for me to ride a horse, Dean. Most of them, uh…” He looked around, his eyes wary “Don’t like me very much.”

“Don’t worry, I already picked one out for you. One of the hauling horses. And my clothes all smelled of you, so she’s been getting used to your scent,” Dean assured him. “It’ll be all right, I promise.”

Just as he finished speaking two more horses were led, fully tacked, to the tent. Charlie and Balthazar were handed the reins. Sam made sure Charlie knew how to ride, while Balthazar swung up into his saddle without any assistance.

Dean, in the meantime, led Cas over to his own horse, a rich brown mare with white socks and black mane and tail. “Hold out your hand like this,” Dean said, demonstrating. Cas did and Dean dropped sugar cubes into his hand. “It’ll help her trust you. She’ll associate you with food.”

The horse jittered a bit but Dean was proud at his choice when she finally nosed forward and lipped the cubes off Cas’s outstretched hand. The small smile on Cas’s face warmed Dean’s heart as he guided Cas into patting her neck and scratching between her ears. After a few moments to let the placid mare get used to Cas, Dean assisted him up, showing him how to sit and how to hold the reins.

“Just stick by me and I’ll teach you as we go.”

“What’s her name?”

“Don’t laugh,” Dean warned Cas even as he got into his own saddle. “Her name is Socks. Sam named her when she was born. I think he was six at the time.”

“Socks,” Castiel intoned blandly. A quick look had Dean seeing the twinkle in Cas’s eyes. Cas leaned down and patted Socks’s neck. “It suits her, I think.”

They were soon on their way with no more delays. Charlie rode ahead with Sam, chatting near constantly, all while occasionally glancing back at Dean and Cas. She waved and he chuckled. She was so energetic and cheerful and he still couldn’t believe she was a  _ spy! _

Dean hid his smile. Their little entourage, bigger than he had expected, were already well on their way southeast towards Winchester lands. By horse, it wasn’t usually all that terrible of a journey. Two days at a leisurely pace, 1 and a half was average, 1 if you had the right horse and a need to travel that fast.

This was… less than a leisurely pace. Balthazar, at least, had some experience on a horse, though it was limited. Bobby had been right not to trust the care and saddling of the horses to Balthazar, but that was easily rectified.

Castiel, however…

Strangely, it had actually been easier than expected to find a horse they could get acclimatized to him. Dean was still very proud of his choice. Socks had taken much more quickly to Cas then he had expected, given Cas’s particular worries.

The thing was, of course, now Dean had to show him the ropes.

All of them.

So the way was slow going but Dean found that he didn’t mind all that much. If it took a week to get home, it was still a week spent in Cas’s company, watching his fascination with learning something new and creating a bond with his horse.

Sam and Charlie were leading the way as they chatted, Balthazar just behind them, while their ‘bodyguards’ – all three of them - brought up the rear, leaving Dean and Cas in their own little bubble in the center as their horses ambled lazily along.

“Hey, so, what is it we need to do for this soul mate thing anyway? How do we complete the bond? My ancestor’s journal was a little light on that, and I know Sam and I spent a lot of our youth speculating on why that was,” Dean said.

“It’s nothing complicated, just… time consuming,” Castiel said thoughtfully. “There are purification rituals to go through. Done right, they’ll take up the entire morning. Those are followed by the painting of certain sigils along each other’s bodies. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

“I dunno, Cas, painting?” Dean rubbed a hand along his right arm, over the place his soul mate markings had appeared. Though it was hidden by his tunic, he knew Castiel understood the gesture. “Will the sigils become permanent? I was never very adept at using a brush.”

Cas smiled. “No, that part isn’t permanent. That will take up pretty much the rest of the day, though, and of course, we’ll need perfect privacy for all of it.”

“Well, yeah, of course. We’re gonna be naked. I don’t want anyone else seeing us…” Dean blushed. “Like that. It’s, it’s  _ private _ .”

“You know we don’t consummate the bond to complete it, right?” Cas asked, his eyebrow raising.

Dean blinked. Then blinked again. “Wait, we don’t?”

“No, of course not. That comes later, after we’ve had more time to get to know each other,” Cas explained. “There are some who choose to do it right after the Bonding Ritual, however it’s not a requirement.”

“Damn, I owe Sammy money,” Dean muttered.

“I’m sorry?” Cas stared at Dean, his head tilted in confusion.

“It was my theory on what a bonding ritual really entailed and why our ancestor didn’t write it down. Sammy didn’t agree with me,” Dean said grumpily. He really needed to change the topic so he wouldn’t feel too disappointed. After all, even if it didn’t happen now, didn’t mean he and Cas would never be getting intimate. “So, uh… what else do we need to do?”

Dean listened as Cas explained the whole process, his eyes widening with every word. Cas was right. It  _ was  _ time consuming – everything had to happen at a certain pace, different portions needing to be done by specific times all while uttering the words of the ritual. Dean wasn’t sure if it was a spell, or a prayer or even just words to make everything formal.

Or some combination of all the above, Dean thought. In fact, that was probably most likely.

All in all, however, when Cas had explained it, right down to the words that would be said and when, and which sigils would be drawn where, Dean had to acknowledge that Cas had been right when they were on the run.

If they had taken the time to stop and do the bonding ritual right there on Alastair lands… even if they  _ could  _ have found the things they needed to _ do  _ the ritual… they’d have been risking so much and Alastair was sure to have captured Cas sooner.

And Dean at the same time, making it harder – if not downright impossible – for the two of them to be rescued. If Cas hadn’t taken off when he had, if Bobby and Balthazar hadn’t found him instead of heading straight for Alastair…

Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

Things could have turned out  _ so  _ differently… so much worse. They had really gotten lucky.

*** &*&*&CASTIEL*&*&*&***

Castiel wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he arrived at the Winchester Estate. For such a power in the land, second only to the king, he’d expected something much more grand.

In a way, it was. It was most definitely a large, sprawling estate, but the shape of it was enough to give the measure of the people who resided there. It was simple. No grand arches or gilded towers, no reams of unused and wasted land.

Instead, it was a stone fortress, not very big in and of itself, or even tall at all. They’d spread out rather than up, and within the very generous walls of the keep were houses of modest sizes.

It was rather like a village, but unlike others he had seen that held no protection, left to rot outside of grand walls with soldiers that turned all away, these people had been invited inside. There were fields outside the walls and orchards inside – all shared. The training grounds were outside as well, Castiel learned, as Dean pointed out every feature on their way in.

The entire place could easily be shut against any army and only lose the fields – and even then, Dean said there were some plots as well as all the herb gardens that were kept inside for just such a possibility. If they had sufficient storage inside – and Dean assured they did – they could last some time under a siege.

And not a single person on their estate would be left unprotected. It was certainly not the way of things in Tenebrim, and not a method much employed by even the other nobles of Aetheris.

It was no wonder Winchester was a powerful man. Few would dare to go against him - first for his prowess in battle and second for the security and strength of his home.

And rousing the people against him was likely an impossibility. Oh there would always be malcontents in any group, no matter how good they had it, but it was obvious that Winchester cared for his people.

And people who were cared for would see no reason to revolt.

It was also likely why he felt safe enough to offer safety to Captain Milton, should there be cause for her to need it.

As long as Lord Winchester didn’t openly defy him or foment unrest against King Michael, he had no cause to act recklessly enough to pursue the issue with the Winchesters. Their old friendship no matter how it may have faded, probably also held some sway there.

“So what do you think?” Dean asked as they all dismounted in the courtyard.

“It’s impressive,” Castiel admitted. “It has a very…” he paused and pondered his words. “A warm feeling to it. It’s… inviting,” he finally said in awe. “You wouldn’t think it, with all the stark stone and strong lines, but it is.”

Castiel marveled at the alien feeling. It had been so long since he felt welcome anywhere. It almost felt as if he belonged already.

The walked inside the front doors, Dean leading the way until Sam scampered ahead yelling for someone named Ellen.

That’s when something caught his eye and Castiel froze, staring at the walls. They held tapestries as was normal in a place as large as this and made almost entirely of stone, hung up to ward off the chill and break up the monotony of the stone.

But between them…

The words “Welcome Home” stared at him, the words not written in common script. Instead, the words were the glyphs of his people, so brazenly carved into the stone, making him choke a little on the flood of his sudden rising feelings. He raised a hand to cover his mouth and his eyes filled with tears, though they did not spill.

“Cas?” Dean asked, concern thick in his voice. He gripped Castiel’s other arm briefly by the elbow before sliding up to grasp at his shoulder. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. There’s… there’s nothing wrong,” Castiel said, his voice coming out low and raspy. Dean still stared at him, unconvinced, and Castiel took his hand with a broad smile, his eyes crinkling up and causing his unshed tears to squeeze out. He didn’t care. They were happy tears. “But for the first time in so, so long, I feel like I’ve finally come home.”

“That’s cause you have, Cas,” Dean said softly. “I promise you.  You  _ are  _ home.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The glyphs, btw, was a combined effort. I had just seen something on tumblr about making fantasy style glyphs and sigils and had to try it. so i drew out a rough version and thedogsled loved it and totally ran with it! Thanks again! it looks Awesome (it all does! ) :D


	7. Epilogue: Made Complete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole last chapter is Dean and the Latin is translated IN the chapter.

*** &*&*&DEAN*&*&*&***

To say that Dean was nervous would be an understatement. Cas had taught him the sigils to draw and the words to say, but what if he did something wrong? What if he messed it all up and Cas died anyway?

Sammy was the one who had all the book learning.  He would have learned the sigils and the words easily while Dean, well,  Dean knew where his strengths lay and this wasn’t it.

None of which was here and now.

Here and now had Dean in a secluded grove of trees nearly 30 miles or more behind Winchester Estate. It had been an almost two day walk, looking for some place suitable enough for both of them to enact the ritual with privacy – from others and at certain points, each other as well.

They’d found a small cave – bigger than the one they’d hidden out in together just a couple of weeks back – and set up camp there for the night after scouting around to see if the area had what they needed.

Two small pools – small enough that neither would show up on their map – were perfect for their purposes. Both were within easy walking distance of the cave, but clearly out of sight of each other.

Dean was now going through the morning long purification ritual: washing in the ice-cold pool as a fire burned merrily on the small shore. At certain points, Dean would toss particular herbs Cas had spent some time collecting into the fire and then close his eyes, breathing them in. He wasn’t even sure what some of them were, but Cas had assured him they were harmless.

“Which parts of this ritual are critical to the bond and which are simply the dressings added on by ages of tradition is something I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” Cas had said, “and it’s long since past the time that I could have asked. To be safe, I will not be eliminating a single step, no matter how silly we think they are.” Cas cupped Dean’s jaw and said softly, “I will not risk failure, risk  _ us,  _ because we were in too much of a hurry, or too prideful to do as we ought.”

Some of it probably  _ was  _ completely unnecessary, but Dean thought the same as Cas. They couldn’t risk it. Already, in the short time he’d grown to know Cas further, Dean had fallen so head over heels that he couldn’t imagine going forward without him. And if this didn’t work, then going forward without him was exactly what might happen.

Dean sniffed the air deeply. He thought he recognized some of the herbs Castiel had used by smell, and to pass the time in the silence of his thoughts, Dean decided to play a game to see if he could figure out what they were and ask Cas later. 

A sweet smell, strong and relaxing, came up from the first herb, but Dean couldn't pinpoint what it was. Lavender, however, was easy to spot. It had been his mother's favorite flower. Dandelions were even easier, the childhood memories it evoked bringing a smile to his face. The little round berry or seed, though, he couldn't for the life of him figure out. 

The familiar scent of cloves was strong and he nearly wrinkled his nose at it. He knew many who cooked with it, or used it to cover the scent of other things. Sometimes Dean found it  _ too _ strong, too cloying, but combined with the other herbs Cas had found, it was much more palatable to his nose than he had expected and he relaxed. 

The last was subtle and almost overpowered, but Dean thought he recognized the little white petals. Ellen often made Chamomile tea for all sorts of ailments. Dean didn't think they even  _ did _ anything for folks other than relax the person drinking it.

Which, now that he thought about it, may have been exactly the point.

When the sun hit almost midday and the fire had just about gone out, Dean took a last dip in the small pond, picked up the small bowl of clay he’d gathered from the shore, and walked – still naked – back to the cave.

He and Cas arrived at the same time and he had to bite his tongue from saying anything. Castiel was just as naked as he was and had also stressed that saying anything outside the ritual could be detrimental.

It was meant to promote wordless communication, to show how well the bond had formed already.

Dean figured it probably worked because each party already knew what they needed to do from days of preparation and discussion. Cas had agreed with a quirked smile that Dean wasn’t wrong.

Together, they knelt, facing each other on the soft grass just in front of the cave mouth. Dean reached for the leather bag of premixed ingredients that Cas had painstakingly put together, and Cas mirrored his movement.

Glancing at each other with quick but happy smiles, they opened the bags as one and poured the ingredients into the still wet clay. A bucket of water stood nearby should they need to rewet it as they mixed.

Cas murmured a word over his bowl and Dean hurried to do the same. The grey clay changed colors and, if Dean hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it.

The clay in Cas’s bowl turned into a beautiful swirl of blues –  _ like his eyes _ – while Dean’s became a deep green with swirls of a lighter green running through it.

The colors were impossible to achieve, and yet they had done so. Standing, Cas and Dean both held their bowls in the crook of their elbows and took turns drawing sigils on each other’s skin. The greens should have muddied when applied, yet the swirls remained intact and even glowed with every finger swipe of the odd painting clay.

Dean wanted to simply stare but he forced himself not to, reciting the words Cas had taught him after every sigil he painted. Cas did just the same, his fingers hot on Dean’s skin despite the cooling day.

Thrills ran through Dean with each touch of Cas’s fingers, with every sigil that bloomed on their skin. Something pulled taut between them, the air getting thicker with every moment. The sigils glowed gently as they formed, flaring briefly every time he or Cas uttered a word over a completed sigil.

They worked slowly but surely, painting in tandem, each movement a pulsing heartbeat.

Dean found that the longer they painted and the more skin was covered – the sigils slowly creeping towards the soul marks that had started it all – a picture was forming, though he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

It was nearing sunset when they finished the last sigil. They both paused, their fingers poised over each other’s right arms, hovering over the swirling tail of the original mark. Their eyes met and, as one, their fingers reached out to deliver the last strokes, green and blue joining the soul marks to the sigils.

Sparks flew and the sigils flared so bright Dean had to close his eyes against the light. After a gasp of surprise, something nudged his mind  _ – no, not something! It was Cas!  _ – and once again in sync with each other, they intoned the last of the ritual words.

Dean marveled that after all his nervousness with the unfamiliar words and sigils, he’d not tripped up even once. He was sure of it, just by looking at Cas’s face, at the pleased and proud expression that resided there. Now, as the light cleared, the afterimages leaving weird shapes in his vision, warmth exploded in his chest.

It was a feeling like nothing else. It had its beginnings in the same warmth and aching love he felt for his family, but it was more  _ – so much more! _

Cas looked just as stunned as Dean felt and Dean reached out to gently touch Cas’s face. Stubble had risen there throughout the day, just enough to feel it pleasingly under the pads of his fingers. The touch sent a tingling through him and Dean gulped.

Cas had said this wasn’t a physical thing, not in the way Dean had thought, but the urge to kiss him was too great.

“So kiss me, then,” Cas said softly.

Dean blinked in astonishment. Had Cas –  _ Are you reading my mind, Cas? _

Cas’s eyes widened as they flickered down to Dean’s lips and back up again. That was normally an action that was charged with a wholly different intent than realizing Dean had spoken without moving his lips,, but Dean couldn’t help but lick his own in response and anticipation _. _

_ I think… I think so…  _ Cas answered Dean the same way. It was a strange sensation. Not wholly words, but the thought was there, somehow, hidden behind emotion that seemed to flood him from Cas and back again. Despite the lack of real words, the thought was understood in an eye blink.

Less than an eye blink.

It was amazing and awe inspiring and almost frightening, in a way. If it had been anybody other than Cas, Dean was sure he’d be withdrawing and yet… somehow… he didn’t mind if Cas knew all his thoughts, his feelings or even his secret desires.

Speaking of…  _ thinking of?...  _ he really wanted that kiss.

Even as he thought it, Cas surged forward and joined their lips together. If Dean had thought their kisses electric before this, the sparks that flew left them both gasping. Dean grasped Cas’s arms to stay upright, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

Together, they slowly sank down, the bowls long since clattered to the ground, the clay inside spent and used.

Dean touched his forehead to Cas’s and stared into the depths of those gorgeous blue eyes. He couldn’t find the right word to describe their color but, gods! He was mesmerized by them. Tears had welled up in Cas’s eyes and trembling fingers touched Dean’s face.

“For so long… Dean, you don’t even know, but for so long, I believed this chance was gone for me. It doesn’t even seem real – that you’re here, with me, now.” Castiel’s voice choked, but his words went on.  _ This is… this is amazing and wonderful. Truly, a dream come true. I was so alone before – _

_ Not anymore, Cas. You have family again. You have  _ **_me_ ** _.  _ Dean bit his lip. “I’ve got something for you. Just, let me get it,” he whispered, feeling the need to say the words out loud. It would take some time to get used to this speaking in his head.

Reluctantly, he separated from Cas and stood, going back into the cave where they’d left their clothes. He pulled out the bag he’d left his locket in for safe keeping – alongside one other thing. Dean returned, sitting down on the ground in front of Castiel – his  _ mate  _ – and opened the bag. It only held four things, and he dumped them out into his hand carefully.

“I know you can’t wear a ring, Cas. Because nothing you wear shifts with you. But what if I told you I had a solution to that?” Dean looked up with a small grin. “You’re not a full-fledged Winchester till you have your own locket – and this one was once carried by an ancestor of mine, specifically tailored to the needs of a dragon. It has the normal Winchester protections but it’s got a few extra things I think you’ll like. You can wear it safely without fear of breaking it or choking because it shifts with you. And if you’re wearing it, anything else you wear will also shift with you.”

Dean held the locket out with bated breath. It was obviously old, but well cared for, and he hoped that Cas didn’t take offense that it wasn’t new, that it had been someone else’s before his. It was silver, with a silver chain, and etched with delicate swirls that reminded Dean of feathers – and of some of the sigils they’d drawn today. The inside was empty save for an inscription.

On one side, in the same language Dean realized Cas had taught him for the ritual, was inscribed the words, “ Cum invenitur amor, ut non tenetur aeternum. Et vos, et I. Enim vult vitam sine vobis solus est, et vos sine anima intellegi quidem possit. Nos erit simul in vita et post transitum nostra  – sic animae nostrae verum est vinculum. ”

Cas read them out loud, his gravelly voice caressing Dean even as his mind echoed the meaning into Dean’s head –

_ When love is found, we are eternally bound. When you go, so will I. For life without you was lonely, and life without you again is unthinkable. We will live on together even after our passing – thus is the truth of our soul bond _ .

“It’s perhaps not the best poetry but…” Dean said nervously.

“But the sentiment is clear,” Castiel said.  _ And for that it is beautiful.  _ He slipped the locket over his neck with a happy grin and Dean let out a breath of relief. The rings were almost an afterthought, Dean nearly forgetting about them till Cas nudged them with his fingers, the gold and silver bands shifting in Dean’s palm.

“I know we don’t need to – we’re married now in the dragon way, and that’s enough for me. But for my family… it’s human convention that we have a more public ceremony. We don’t have to –” Dean hurried to say but Castiel shushed him, placing a finger over his lips to still his words.

“It’s all right. You did things my way. I am more than happy to do things your way as well. Especially if it makes your family happy.” _Besides, we seem to be doing things by twos. We already rescued each other, so why not two weddings?_ Castiel’s eyes crinkled as they looked into Dean’s and Dean laughed, kissing Cas’s finger.

“Gods… I love you,” Dean whispered, overcome with emotion.

“And I you,” Castiel answered.  _ For you to come into my life now, it makes me believe in the gods again. I was so lonely, Dean. So very, very lonely. _

Dean’s eyes burned with tears at how sad Cas felt when he thought of the ache of so many lonely years. He cupped Cas’s face in his hands and dipped down to kiss him slow, and gentle.

_ Not anymore, Cas. I’m here. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... that's it. That's all she (me) wrote! Thank you for sticking with this story! I had fun writing it even though I do NOT know what inspired it. But I love dragons and am fascinated with soulmate AU's AND, well, I can't help trying to turn damsel in distress stories on their heads.
> 
> Deadlykittenkay - btw, THIS is the story I was writing (this Destiel Soulmate AU) when you gave me that prompt for a ... guess what.... Destiel Soulmate AU. Now you know why I was laughing my ass off.
> 
> P. S. The Map at the end of this chapter was NOT drawn my artist. it was made by me because I needed it to figure out where everything was, the paths everyone took and how long it took to get there.
> 
> I had SPREADSHEETS detailing how fast a person could walk vs how fast a horse could go. THEN i investigated as many 'large birds' as I could google to figure out what would be about the size of Cas in his small dragon form and how long it would take to fly anywhere. 
> 
> Then i put the map on a grid, assigned a mileage to each square and realized why people make hexagons for role playing campaigns. I almost screwed up the math (math and I never got a long well) and when I worked it all out, I said "Crap" and had to go back and adjust a lot of things and figure out what would have caused the delays I needed to have.
> 
> AND REMEMBER!!!!  
> If you enjoyed all the fantastic ART, make sure to stop by and tell [ thedogsled ](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/) this as well! As an artist myself, I can tell you it means a lot to know that people enjoyed the fic AND the art. [ SO, Check out the Art Masterpost here and give theDogsled love directly!](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/post/179693279953/an-art-masterpost-for-rescue-mission-for-two-by)
> 
> Come follow me on Tumblr: [Pherryt ](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/), in fact, I just made a New follower Post: [ New Follower Informational Post :D ](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/179641481406/waves-at-the-new-followers)


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